Reformation
by Bloody-Ban
Summary: The public enemy is sentenced to death, but he is given a second chance to live on one condition...COMPLETE!
1. An Opportunity

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: With _The Path of Consequence_ coming to a close, I wanted to start on another project that I've had in mind for a while. This story is based off of the movie 'Control,' and the original concept is copyright by the writers. I'd suggest you to go rent it, but then it would give away the story and defeat the purpose of writing this!

**DISCLAIMER**: Darkwing Duck, Negaduck, J. Gander Hooter, and SHUSH are all ©Disney. Jake Mallard (father of Negaduck) is © me. And Jacob Mallard (father of Darkwing Duck) is ©Amanda Rohrssen and is being used with her permission.

**CHAPTER 1**

The bright lights brutally shone down into his eyes from the ceiling. Even through the his yellow suit, he could feel the cold steel of the table against his back. The clamps around his wrists and ankles that held him tight to the table began to cut off the circulation. They didn't want to risk him getting away. There were four people in the small room, and two of them were armed guards. Another was in a distinguished brown suit. The fourth was wearing white medical robes, and in his gloved hands was a sickening fat needle with a tube attached. At the opposite end of the tube was a dispensing machine with six separate syringes attached. Inside of each syringe was a yellow liquid. Negaduck didn't even flinch as the large needle pierced the skin of his left forearm and shoved into his veins. He just kept his cold blue eyes on the bright lights overhead.

Behind the glass windows separating the death chamber from an observation room sat half a dozen people. There were certainly more who wished to watch the execution of the villain, but only a few important people were allowed to witness. SHUSH's director, J. Gander Hooter, was among them. Flanking his right was Agent Jake Mallard. Unknown by the city, this top agent of SHUSH was the father of the criminal about to be condemned. But he watched intently, the fact that the villain was his own flesh and blood not phasing him. Also present were two people who were family members of the villain's most recent victim who watched with tears of pain and tears of vengeance in their eyes. And in the far back corner of the observation room was another mallard, also a renound agent of SHUSH. His hand wrapped over the top of the cane he carried and his eyes watched from the shadows.

The man in the brown suit held an official document in his hand. A death order. "As commanded by the State, you, Negaduck, are hearby condemned to death by lethal injection," the large round man read, and then turned his head to face the villain. "Is there anything you'd like to say?"

"To Hell with ya!" Negaduck spat in reply at him. Then he turned his snarl to the group watching behind the windows. "And to Hell with all of you, too! You can all kiss my tailfeathers!"

With a final growl, he let his head clunk back onto the metal table. The man in the brown suit stepped back and nodded to the worker in the white lab coat, who lifted his hand to the injection machine and flipped a large green switch. The machine whirred to life, and then a red switch was flipped up. There was a short sucking sound as the liquid in each of the syringes began to empty, slowly at first, but then faster. The lethal fluid flowed into the tube, through the needle, and into Negaduck's veins. Still, he didn't move a muscle as he felt his reign of terror coming to an end.

As he felt the poison sucking away his strength, Negaduck saw flashes in his mind. Flashes of his life. He saw his father brutally beating his mother when he was only nine years old. He saw himself being beaten and locked into closets at the orphanage where he was forced to spend his childhood. He saw himself donning the black mask for the first time, thus beginning his life of crime. Finally, he saw himself holding up a bank, only weeks earlier. He was able to watch as he fired shots from his gun at the frightened citizens before fleeing out the front door to make his escape with his prize. It was then that he nearly bumped into a young 22-year old man, who had innocently getting out of his parked car. Negaduck had lifted his gun and shot the young man in cold blood, directly in the head. It was his family who was witnessing the execution now.

Negaduck's eyes began to violently flutter as the syringes emptied. The lights above him blurred together, and the humming of the machine faded. The last ounce of energy was quickly sucked out of him, and his eyes closed behind the black mask. After a few more seconds passed, his chest ceased to rise again.

Moments later, the body of St. Canard's public enemy was placed in a black body bag and zipped shut. As the guards wheeled the body bag out of the chamber on a gurney, the people in the witness room began to file out. Jake remained by J. Gander's side as they made their leave, but he didn't hesitate to pass his rival hiding in the shadows a glower as they passed. Jake Mallard and Jacob Mallard hated one another with a passion and had many scores to settle with one another.

"I must say, that was one execution I wish I didn't have to witness," J. Gander commented as he and his agent continued through the halls and into the lobby.

"This was a big step toward reducing the city's crime rate, and a hard blow to the criminal element," Jake pointed out, the fact that he had just watched his son die not affecting him. "He was a menace that needed to be taken off of the streets for a long time. A lot of citizens will sleep better tonight, J. Gander."

The director nodded once, seeming distracted. "Of course you are right. Thank you for your assistance, Mallard. You are dismissed for the day."

Jake turned to make his leave. Once he was out of sight, J. Gander shifted his eyes to the side, noticing Jacob silently standing by. They made eye contact with one another, and then J. Gander passed him an approving nod.

Three black sedans and a coroner's vehicle pulled up to the back entrance to one of SHUSH's sub-units: the morgue. It was in the later hours of the evening, and many of the employees had gone home for the night. But a few were still on duty, including Jacob Mallard. He stepped out of one of the sedans with his cane held firmly in his left hand. He watched as the gurney with the black body bag was lifted from the back of the coroner's van and wheeled inside of the morgue. The senior agent casually strolled behind them, standing upright despite the limp in his left leg. This was something he had been awaiting for a long time.

Once inside the morgue's examination room, Jacob limped over to the gurney. He acknowledged J. Gander, who was also present, and then he nodded to one of the agents who were chosen to participate in this secret assignment. "Alright, open the bag."

The agent unzipped the body bag and pulled it open around the unmoving body of Negaduck. He was still in his red, yellow, and black costume, and his wrists had been handcuffed. The agent stepped back, awaiting further instructions, but the room was silent. Jacob just watched patiently, waiting.

Then, a sharp gasp. The villain had taken in a short breath, and his chest began to move effortlessly once again. His fingers twitched, and his dilated eyes slowly fluttered open. As they focused, the moved around in all directions, taking in the new surroundings. And the people surrounding him.

"Wha...?" Negaduck gasped, still weak and taking in deep breaths of air. "Where am I?"

"You're in the SHUSH morgue, Negaduck," J. Gander answered from the side.

Negaduck looked around again, putting the pieces together. He was in a morgue. "But...I'm not dead?" he observed, first sounding confused, but then he let out a weak chuckle as the fact sunk in. "I'm not dead."

"The injection you received was nothing but water and anesthetic," Jacob spoke up.

Negaduck looked up and his eyes fell upon Jacob, whom he had known of. "You?" he growled lowly, and his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What's going on?"

"You're getting an opportunity, Negaduck," J. Gander began to explain. "An opportunity to participate in a scientific research experiment. If you agree to participate, we'll put your toe-tag on another corpse to be cremated and you'll go along with these gentleman to a closed SHUSH facility."

"If you don't agree, then you'll be injected with a real lethal chemical and the execution will continue right here, right now," Jacob finished evenly.

Negaduck raised an eyebrow, not completely believing what he was hearing. "Oh yeah? What kind of experiment are we talking about here?" he scoffed.

But Jacob remained calm. "It's a behavioral modification drug trial."

"And what do you have to do with this?"

"I've been assigned to oversee the experiment of this new drug. Contrary to what many believe, I specialized in chemistry and bio-physics at one time. You'll be under my supervision," Jacob said with a bit of a mischievous smile on his bill.

Negaduck glowered and shifted himself on the gurney. "So you want me to be your little guinea pig, eh?"

Jacob shrugged. "If that's what you'd like to call yourself. But we prefer the term 'test subject.'"

There was a short pause, and then J. Gander spoke again. "You have one minute to make your decision, Negaduck."

"You want my decision?" Negaduck snarled as he turned his glare on the director. "Bite me!"

The defensive remark had no affect on J. Gander and he nodded to one of the agents holding a syringe and needle--this time filled with real poison. "Proceed." The agent timidly stepped up beside the villain as if he were a rabid animal.

"This is your last chance to do something good in your life, Negaduck," Jacob warned, his voice having a slight urgent undertone as time began to run out. "This is your only chance to give back to society."

Negaduck's dark eyes snapped to Jacob. They were filled with anger. In a quick motion, his handcuffed hands shot out and grabbed Jacob by his suit, pulling him down so that there faces were inches apart. Jacob blinked in surprise but otherwise remained collected as he stared into the public enemy's cold eyes. "Screw society," Negaduck growled, his voice dripping with spite. "What has society ever done for me, huh?"

With those words, he roughly pushed Jacob backward, who stumbled a step or two before quickly regaining himself. He adjusted his light blue tie and nodded. "Have it your way."

The agent with the needle gripped it tightly in his hand and poised it just inches above Negaduck's now exposed arm. But as he began to lower the needle to his flesh, Negaduck suddenly pulled his arm a few inches to the side and held up his bound hands to stop him.

"Wait..."

Minutes later, the caped felon was secretly being led out of the SHUSH morgue to an awaiting vehicle.

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed the first chapter, please review and let me know--I don't want to continue writing something that no one is enjoying!


	2. Uncreating A Monster

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Firstly, thank you so much to everyone who reviewed chapter one! Now that I know there are people who have taken an interest in this fiction, I will definitely continue writing it. And don't worry, I'm not neglecting _The Path of Consequence_. It's slowly coming to a close--I won't leave you hanging! So until next time, enjoy chapter two!

DISCLAIMER: Negaduck, Darkwing Duck, J. Gander Hooter, and Dr. Sara Bellum are all ©Disney. Jacob Mallard is ©Amanda Rohrssen and is being used with her permission. Jake Mallard is ©me.

**CHAPTER 2**

The small room resembled a bright, white-walled cell. The dimensions were no bigger ten feet by eight feet. There were no windows. The only items in the room were a small bed in the center, a toilet and sink in the corner, and a small table bolted into the wall. But taking up one entire wall was an obvious two-way mirror with an observation lab control room on the opposite side.

Negaduck was laying on his back upon the table, surrounded by SHUSH agents, one of whom was nervously unlocking the villain's handcuffs. Leaning against the wall was Jacob, who watched his test subject with interest.

"You'll start by taking one pill every six hours," he informed.

One of the suited agents moved forward. In his hand was a small cup, which held a single yellow capsule. But as soon as his handcuffs were removed, Negaduck held up his hands. "Wait a minute!" he barked and the agent halted. "Now what is this pill supposed to do?" he asked suspiciously.

Jacob exhaled impatiently, dreading the long speech he would have to make in order to explain the entirety of the experiment. "It's called Passidone. It's a drug designed to alter the brain chemistry of you and nineteen other criminals serving as test subjects. If effective, it will suppress your aggressive tenancies and replace them with feelings of goodwill, compassion, and distinguish right from wrong. And over time, perhaps it will even enable feelings of remorse."

Negaduck's eyebrow raised as he stared back at Jacob's stoic face. Then he burst out into maniacal laughter which nearly sent him tumbling off of the bed. "Ha! Yeah, right! That's a laugh!"

But Jacob's sincere expression didn't change. He barely moved a muscle, clearly not amused by Negaduck's inability to grasp the seriousness of the situation. "This is no laughing matter, Negaduck. I participated in the engineering of this drug and it is the first time it has ever been tested on people. Just as in any drug trial, there are risks of side effects."

"Oh yeah? What kind of side effects?" Negaduck asked as he smirked back the last of his laughter.

"Insomnia, headache, nausea. Some can potentially be more severe, such as liver failure or even death."

Now Negaduck grew more serious at the mention of death. After a quick moment of reconsidering, he fired another question in Jacob's direction. "How long does your little experiment last?"

A small smile appeared on Jacob's bill--the first sign of any emotion since they arrive in the observation chamber. "It's never over."

"Huh? What do you mean 'it's never over?'" the villain demanded in surprise.

"You and the other criminals will be observed indefinitely. The experiment doesn't end. That is, unless you die."

Negaduck scowled at the snide comment. "Other criminals, huh? You mean you abducted more than one of us from the morgue?"

"The others were obtained from deathrow prisons across the country, but you needn't worry about them." Jacob stood upright from where he had been leaning against the wall and gave the public enemy another smile. "You're the star attraction."

Negaduck growled loudly and he began to retort with a string of insulting phrases, but Jacob's command beat him.

"One pill, every six hours," he repeated to the SHUSH agents as he strode out of the room without giving Negaduck another glance.

The agent who had been holding the notorious pill stepped forward once again and handed the cup to Negaduck, who grudgingly swiped it from his hand. The eyes of half a dozen agents and guards were locked on him, determined not to blink until they witnessed the violent mallard swallow the pill. The masked mallard glared at them threateningly, paused for a few more seconds, and then lifted the cup to his bill. The pill rolled down his tongue and easily slide down his throat. After swallowing, Negaduck crumpled the cup and threw it to the ground.

Still, the agent eyed him suspiciously. "Open your mouth."

Negaduck sneered, but obediently opened his bill to show no trace of the pill. The agent took a close look and then nodded approvingly. "Good man."

But the villain would show he was anything but a 'good man.' Negaduck scoffed before pulling his shoulders back and spitting directly into the agent's eyes.

"Nice," the agent said sarcastically as he wiped the glob of spit from his eyes.

"You suited yuppies get outta my cell," Negaduck growled just as the guards and agents turned to file out of the cell. As soon as their backs were turned, he grinned wickedly to himself. He had escaped a death sentence, and there was no way that this little experiment would work.

"I'm never one to second guess your judgment, Jacob. But are you confident in your decision?" J. Gander said to his old friend as they walked down one of SHUSH's busy hallways. The chatter around them drowned out the possibility of anyone overhearing their confidential conversation.

"I've never been so sure of anything in my life, John," Jacob answered smoothly. Even though he knew that his experiment had a margin of error, his confidence in himself made the potential success more believable not only to J. Gander, but to himself as well.

The director nodded, still not entirely sure about the whole situation. If something were to go wrong, he would be the one to get the blame. "We've taken a big risk here. We've fraudulently let the public enemy, a violent criminal, escape the death penalty in order to test this drug. All I can say is that this had better work. Or we will both be in serious trouble."

But Jacob remained cool, calm, and cocky. "Relax, John. Have I ever failed at anything?"

"There is a first time for everything."

The grim remark made Jacob's arrogant smile fade into a dissatisfied frown. But the tense moment was interrupted when a young agent approached the two and interrupted.

"Director Hooter, that Burnham report requiring your signature has been left on your desk," the young man informed jovially.

J. Gander nodded. "Thank you, Killington. I'll see to it immediately."

Agent Killington gave a quick smile to both of his seniors before continuing on his way. Jacob stared after him with raised browns. "Killington? That wasn't Eric Killington, was it? Peter's son?"

Peter Killington had been a SHUSH recruit at the same time as Jacob and J. Gander, and the latter gave a smile. "Yes. They grow up so fast, don't they? And so eager to follow in their fathers' footsteps."

Jacob turned his head and looked down at J. Gander. The second that Director Hooter saw the crushed and disappointed expression on his friend's face, he cringed, and instantly regretted making the comment. Jacob Mallard's son was none other than Darkwing Duck. When Drake Mallard was still a boy, Jacob had mysteriously vanished when he had been assassinated by an unknown enemy. While Jacob had become a legend at SHUSH, Darkwing has resented him, believing that his father had abandoned his family. In the end, Darkwing refused to continue his father's legacy at SHUSH and became the city's vigilante.

"I'm sorry, Jacob," J. Gander said gently.

"Nevermind that. We've got other matters to worry about, such as the confidentiality of this project," Jacob quickly stated to dismiss the subject just as they came into SHUSH's main lobby where many agents were passing through on their way to lunch.

One agent immediately caught Jacob's attention. He locked his eyes onto the ice-cold stare of Jake Mallard as he passed through. Jake returned the vile glower to his double. Jacob, determined to keep his cool demeanor, bit his tongue so hard that he could taste the bitter blood in his mouth. Jake was the assassin responsible for his need to carry a cane, and for destroying his family. And Jake had remained successful in keeping this fact concealed from everyone else around him.

As soon as Jake disappeared from sight, Jacob continued on with J. Gander at his side. "I can assume that Mallard is still in the dark regarding the situation?" He had stressed the importance of Jake not knowing about the experiment, and with good reason. No one wanted Negaduck dead more than Jake, and it was the same vice-versa. If Jake found out that his malevolent son was still alive and participating in the experiment, it would quickly become disastrous.

"Of course. The news and details of this experiment will remain confidential to anyone outside of the chosen staff," J. Gander said reassuringly. "If word got out to the public that he is still alive, we will have a riot on our hands. That is something we need to prevent from happening."

"It won't happen, John. We're going to un-create a monster."

The secret SHUSH lab was something that only a select few were fortunate enough to know existed. It was hidden underground, and looked like a typical laboratory. There were two levels, a ground level and a balcony level where stations were connected by catwalks. Overlooking the ground level was the main control room, which sat behind a large glass window. At the back end of the control room was the two-way mirror that looked in to Negaduck's cell.

Jacob strutted his way across the catwalk that brought him to the control room. He ceremoniously stepped inside to greet a couple of his comrades, one of whom was Dr. Sara Bellum. The other was a young scientist, Dr. Trever Grodin. The two scientists continued to work away at their computers as Jacob made his presence known.

"What are his vitals?" he inquired.

Dr. Bellum shook his head grimly. "Not good. Not good at all. Looks like we'll just to sedate him and cut out his brain!" she said and looked up at Jacob hopefully. He was not impressed, and she put on a sheepish smile. "Just kidding."

"It's already been more than a day and there's barely been a peep from him," Dr. Grodin informed more seriously.

Jacob raised his brows, coming off as the slightest bit surprised. "Oh, really? Well then, I want to get a blood test drawn. And a sample of his spinal fluid."

A couple of minutes later, two agents entered a strangely-calm Negaduck's cell. Jacob watched from behind the mirror and spoke into a microphone, which transmitted his voice over a loudspeaker inside of the cell. "Negaduck, we're going to remove your last restraint. Just try to relax."

Negaduck smirked from where he sat as one of the agents stepped forward to unlock the handcuffs imprisoning his wrists. "I just 'died' and lived to talk about it. I've never been more relaxed in my life!"

He heard the click of the handcuffs and they were removed. Negaduck rubbed his wrists and looked around himself, calmly. "But I sure could use a cup of coffee. Anyone got any java!"

It happened so quick.

Negaduck clenched his hands together into a fist and swung them around to catch the closest agent in the jaw. While he reeled backward and fell to the floor, the other agent rushed forward in an attempt to subdue the suddenly uncooperative criminal. But Negaduck was too quick. He slammed himself into the man's midsection and crushed him against the wall, forcing the breath out of him. Jacob watched with wide eyes as the criminal dashed out of the cell, and he quickly slammed his hand down on the red 'Alert' button.

"SECURITY BREACH. SECURITY BREACH." The siren wailed and flashing lights illuminated the white hallways in a red glow.

Negaduck sprinted down the hallway with his black cape flapping furiously behind him. With almost every corner he took, he ran into an agent or a security guard. And each one was no match for the professional crime lord. He beat down each barrier he met, throwing suited SHUSH employees to the floor or even into one another before continuing his pursuit for freedom. It wasn't long before he shot out one of the building's emergency exits into the dark, cool night air. He could hear the stampede following him from not far behind. Without looking back, Negaduck darted across the damp grass of the SHUSH yard toward the towering fence standing between him and freedom.

"There he goes!" he heard a deep voice bark from not even a hundred yards behind him.

The villain ran as fast as his feet would carry him. He was quickly running out of breath, but as the fence came closer each second, he knew he would make it. They wouldn't be able to catch him now. Negaduck leapt onto the chainlink fence and began to climb upward toward the barbed top. It would be tricky and potentially painful to make it over the top, but he knew he could do it. All he needed was a few more seconds and--

A gun fired.

But it wasn't a firearm.

Negaduck froze instantly as he felt 10,000 volts of electricity zap through his body. He gagged on a how of pain and found that he couldn't move. His eyes panned downward to see the two small prongs sticking out of the flesh of his flank, which were attached to a taser being held by one of the agents who possessed incredible aim. Negaduck's eyes rolled back into his head as he felt himself unwillingly let go of the fence and slide down several feet into the awaiting arms of several agents who lowered the unconscious villain to the ground.

Jacob calmly walked up from behind and leaned against his cane, looking down at the masked mallard.

"He's an animal," the agent with the taser observed in a disgusted voice.

But Jacob just smiled eagerly.

"He's perfect."


	3. Removing the Past

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **Thank you to everyone who has taken an interest in this story and for leaving your reviews! Please enjoy chapter three!

**DISCLAIMER: **Negaduck, Gosalyn Mallard, and Dr. Bellum are all ©Disney. Jacob Mallard is ©Amanda Rohrssen. All other characters are ©me.

**CHAPTER 3**

Negaduck groaned from where the agents had dropped his body: right back on the cheap bed in his cell. He had been unconscious for at least twelve hours and was finally beginning to awaken. His head was pounding and his eyelids felt as if they had been stapled together. As he sat up, slowly so as not to feel dizzy to the point of vomiting, he brought his hands to hs face to rub his eyes. The feathers on his face felt flat and damp with sweat...

Wait a minute...

His eyes instantly snapped open. The first thing he noticed was that his costume had been replaced with a simple black t-shirt. His yellow jacket, his cape, his fedora, all were gone.

"What the--!" Negaduck exclaimed as he jumped to his feet. He stared forward into the two-way mirror at his reflection, and saw that his menacing outfit hadn't been the only thing removed.

His black mask, the center of his being, was gone.

The villain's bottom jaw dropped open and for a moment, all he could do was stare back at his reflection and stutter. He didn't recognize the mallard looking back at him. Negaduck had worn the mask for so long that he had forgotten who he had once been.

"Hey! Hey!" Negaduck hollered at the two-way mirror where he knew Jacob and his associates were watching. He even slammed his fists against the strong plexiglass. "What's going on here?"

Jacob's calm yet taunting voice came over the intercom. "Relax, Negaduck. Take a chill pill."

"What happened?" Negaduck demanded, almost frantically. "What happened to my clothes? Where's my mask?"

"Removed. Just like your past. While the drug continues to change you on the inside, we'll work on changing your appearance to that of a law abiding citizen."

"Are you crazy!" the villain argued defiantly as he glared through the mirror. "After what you idiots did to me, you should be taking these 'anti-aggression' pills!"

There was a short pause before Jacob replied cheerily. "Okay, whatever you say. But you first."

Negaduck clenched his fists together and they visibly shook with his anger. Still, he snatched the little paper cup holding the single pill and popped it into his mouth. Once he swallow, he crushed the cup in his hand and tossed it over his shoulder before passing Jacob a stubborn, concluding glower.

"Good boy," Jacob chided. The only response he received was the raising of the criminal's middle finger.

"Oh, please, please let me pick apart his brain," Dr. Bellum begged in response to Negaduck's rude gesture.

But Jacob was unaffected by the insult and shook his head. "No. We still have many tests to run."

A day went by. And then another. The tests and the pill-popping continued.

Down on the main level of the laboratory, the recently unmasked Negaduck sat in front of a large television screen which was equipped with a gaming console. He gripped the gun for the simulator game tightly in his hand and shot repeatedly at the 'armed thugs' that popped up on the screen. Hooked up to his arms, chest, and forehead were monitoring strips to feed his vitals to scientists watching from the control room above.

Negaduck would cackle madly as the digital blood would explode on screen with each bad guy he shot down. He never missed one.

"Darn," the young Dr. Grodin said disappointedly. "He beat my high score."

"What are his levels?" Jacob asked Dr. Bellum.

She tapped a few keys on her keyboard and her brows furrowed as she shook her head. "They're barely registering."

They continued to watch as Negaduck continued with the game, letting out a maniacal laugh every time the blood would splash.

"This guy is a textbook sociopath," Dr. Grodin observed with disgust.

"Which is exactly why we chose him," Jacob reminded with a cunning smile. "Increase the game difficulty. Let's see what affect that will have."

Dr. Grodin displayed the same smile and used the computer in front of him to increase the game level. "Increasing the game speed to Mach 5."

The game immediately began to speed up, and the thugs appeared on the screen at a rate of three times the previous level. Negaduck's eyes went wide as he was suddenly overwhelmed.

"Hey! What's going on?" he snarled as he continued to shoot whatever came into his path. It was not good enough, however, and within seconds, the screen went red with the words 'GAME OVER' flashing in front of him.

Negaduck roared angrily and jumped to his feet. He threw the gun to the ground before he grabbed the chair and hurled it across the lab. He then stormed forward and pushed the large flat-screen television over in his fit of rage.

"This thing is rigged!" Negaduck shouted accusingly and pointed at the shattered television just as guards began to swarm around him. "You rigged this thing! Fix your stupid machine!"

While he continued to rant and rave, Jacob groaned and ran his hand down his face.

"There goes ten grand," Dr. Bellum pointed out morbidly with a glum expression. "J. Gander won't be too happy."

"He'll take it out of my paycheck," Jacob muttered reassuringly.

Jacob sat on one side of the white desk while Negaduck sat on the opposite side. While Jacob looked through a file in his hand, a small screen sitting on the desk would show the picture of one person after another. The thing all of these people had in common: they had all been victims of the public enemy.

"Clyde Burlap," Jacob identified the brutish bulldog who appeared on the screen next. "Do you ever regret doing what you did to him?"

Negaduck smirked as he stared at the picture. "Yeah, whatever. Serves the punk right for spreading rumors around the Old Haunt that my hat was compensating for something," he informed spitefully, but then added in an eerily playful tone, "Besides, it was fun."

Jacob raised a brow inquiringly. "You stapled him to the dartboard before tying him to the back your motorcycle and dragging him up and down Elm Street."

The villain only smiled. Even without his black mask, the malic was still clear in his eyes. Jacob sighed and shook his head before switching to the next picture, which was a suave looking young canine in a suite. "Agent Juan Romero of FOWL. Do you feel bad about taking his life?"

Now Negaduck was growing bored. He leaned forward and lazily rested his cheek in the palm of one hand. "You don't know what it's like on the wrong side of the law, do you? Us hard-time criminals aren't only battling you do-gooders, but we're constantly fighting one another. Last year, FOWL began to see me as a threat to their own criminal empire. So they put Steelbeak in charge of getting me out of the picture. Too chicken to go after me himself, he send ol' Romero out as his mercenary. This chump had no idea what he was going up against, and I decided to send FOWL a brutal message of my own."

"So you felt justified in what you did?" Jacob asked.

"Hell yes I felt justified!" he snapped defensively. "I felt very justified! What am I, on trial?"

"Alright, let's move on," Jacob said, dismissing the criminal's outburst. He moved on, and switched to the next photograph. But this one was a bit different from the others. This time they were faced with the bright green eyes of a young girl with curly red locks. She wore a pink dress and was smiling widely. Immediately, Negaduck did a double-take, and this didn't go unnoticed.

"Ah, so you know her well."

Negaduck quickly regained his glower and accusingly stared down the mallard across from him. "What's this about?"

"Gosalyn Mallard," Jacob pointed toward the screen.

Up in the observatory room, one of the computers monitoring the villain's vitals let out an alert, low-pitched beep. Dr. Bellum and Dr. Grodin both looked at the computer with a sense of awe.

"We've got a minor bump..." Dr. Bellum concluded quietly.

"So? She's alive, last time I checked" Negaduck shrugged carelessly. "What does she have to do with this?"

"She's a victim, too, Negaduck. And you know it. You were the one who killed her parents, isn't that right? During a robbery in the Negaverse?"

The mallard menace scoffed and rolled his eyes impatiently. "Give me a break. Yeah, I did. And the only reason I took that little brat in was to have someone to order around. So what?"

Jacob tilted his head before asking the question he already knew the answer to. "So you don't feel any remorse at all?"

Negaduck narrowed his dark blue eyes. He stared coldly at Jacob before he slowly leaned forward over the desk toward him and growled lowly. "None."

With an defeated exhale, Jacob sat back in his chair. His eyes passed over the file in front of him, and he realized he wasn't finished with this hardened criminal yet. He picked up the folder and began thumbing through the papers. "Let's see. You were...what, eleven years old when your mother died?"

Now Negaduck's temper was quickly on the rise. "You know exactly how old I was!"

"These files have their discrepencies. I just want to make sure I've got it all right," Jacob quickly informed in his defense. But he already knew the whole story behind the questions he was asking, and Negaduck was aware of this. "It says here that she was attacked by your father and that you witnessed the murder. Is that right?"

"Just give me the pills and let's get on with it!" Negaduck snarled as he slammed a fist down on the desk. "You never mentioned anything about answering these questions!"

Jacob remained firm and defiant against the strong argument he was facing. "You and the other test subjects are all answering the same questions. It's part of the procedure, so just answer the question."

"To Hell with it!" Negaduck continued to be defiant. "I don't have to answer any of your stupid questions! And don't talk down to me like that, got it? I'm not your kid!" he demanded and pointed a finger assertively at him to prove his point.

But Jacob's calmness and sincerity beat down the angry criminal, and he didn't falter for even an instant. "Look, if you won't answer the questions, then you are of no use to me. I'm the only reason you are still alive, so you can either answer the questions and allow me to help you, or I will turn you over to the custody of the warden right now."

His firm words left Negaduck at a loss for words and unable to continue his verbal resistence. He locked his jaw firmly and turned his head away for a moment. When he returned his gaze to Jacob, there was a spark of something in his deep blue irises.

Pain.

"I was nine," Negaduck finally answered reluctantly. "Not eleven. I was nine. And yes, I saw her flailing around while he pummeled her mercilessly in front of me," he continued, and even though he tried with all his might to keep his strong, villainous demeanor, Jacob was able to hear the wavering in his voice. "And you know what else he did? He tied me to a kitchen chair, and after he was done beating her to a bloody pulp, he did the same to me. He beat me until I was a punch away from dying. Then he ran off like the coward he really is, believing I was dead."

Jacob didn't shift his gaze away from the public enemy. His eyes stayed lock with his while he told his story.

"And then you know what happened next?" Negaduck continued in a sarcastically cheerful tone. "While I was forced to suffer in an orphanage, that bastard went on to become a leading agent of SHUSH here in St. Canard. How ironic, huh? If only the people of this pathetic city knew what kind of a person Agent Jake Mallard really was! Why don't you write that in your little report, huh?"

Sensing the hostility on the rise once again, Jacob closed the file and stood up. "We're done for today."

"You're damn right we're done!" Negaduck snapped as Jacob walked away from him without a second glance. He scoffed and rolled his eyes as one of the agents stopped at his side with another small paper cup containing a pill. He handed it to the mallard, who roughly swiped it away and angrily tossed the pill into his throat. He threw the paper cup over his shoulder and slouched down in the chair with a scowl on his face. His eyes traveled to the screen on the desk again to be met with those kind green eyes of the Gosalyn Mallard he knew in the Negaverse.

That night, Negaduck found himself unable to sleep. He kept tossing and turning on the uncomfortable bed. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face, and he saw those eyes...

The next morning, Jacob Mallard ceremoniously strutted into the observation room, twirling his cane in his hand, and was immediately greeted by the scientists with updates.

"He seems to have really mellowed out," Dr. Grodin informed. "He's been relatively calm all morning with little signs of aggression."

"Is that so?" Jacob questioned curiously. He looked through the two-way mirror to see Negaduck lounging on the bed, calmly flipping through a Playduck magazine that had been provided to him. "When is his next CATSCAN?"

"Not until tomorrow morning."

Jacob looked at Negaduck once more, who seemed to pay them no mind despite knowing that he was being watched. Then he turned to Dr. Bellum and smiled. "Let's do it now."

A few minutes later, Jacob braved the lion's cage and stepped into Negaduck's cell, completely at ease and optimistic. "Negaduck," he greeted as he stepped over to the small table inside the cell to set down his clipboard of the experiment's logs.

"Hey, Agent Mallard," Negaduck replied without looking up from his dirty magazine. "Hello, gorgeous..." he whistled.

Jacob blinked and did a double-take. He had to notice the magazine to realize just what Negaduck had been complimenting. "How are you feeling this morning?" he asked, returning to the purpose of his visit.

Negaduck looked up from the magazine and tilted his head, as if confused about something. "Actually, not too bad," he concluded as he slowly sat up. "Everything seemed a little...different when I woke up this morning. I seemed a bit more reflective, and everything seemed...clearer." He paused then, thinking over what he had just said, and then gave a disbelieving smirk. "It really works, doesn't it...?"

Jacob smiled, even returning a light laugh, clearly proud of himself. "That's good, Negaduck. That' exactly what we want to hear. Now what we're going to do this morning--" he began to explain as he turned his back on the villain.

Big mistake.

Negaduck leapt to his feet and pounced the unsuspecting agent. His arm looped around Jacob's neck and he snatched the pen off of the table. Jacob let out a startled yell and his eyes went wide when he saw the pen being held dangerously close to his eye.

"What are you doing?" Jacob gasped as his cane clattered to the floor. He hadn't expected this sudden turn of events.

Everyone in the observation room immediately jumped to their feet and Dr. Bellum's voice immediately came over the PA system.

"We've got a Code Red! All security to Unit 3!"

Within seconds, security agents were surrounding the cell with their weapons drawn. But it was a useless effort as long as Jacob was being held hostage.

"Everyone back off!" Negaduck barked as he stepped out of the door, holding Jacob in front of him as a shield with the point of the pen held just centimeters from his eye. "Put your guns down or I swear this thing is going in his eye and then in his neck!"

The next sixty seconds was filled with angry and panicked shouts.

"Let him go!"

"Put it down!"

"Drop your guns or he's dead!"

"Do what he says!"

Negaduck glared threateningly at all the guards, many who still held their aim toward him. "Tell them to put their guns down!" he snarled at Jacob.

"Put them down!" Jacob ordered hurriedly.

The guards reluctantly lowered their weapons and were forced to step aside so that Negaduck could push his way through with Jacob held prisoner in his grasp. He kept the pen dangerously close to his face and his eyes darted wildly around him should anyone make a sudden move toward him.

"Tell me how to get outta here!" he demanded while he blindly continued to lead Jacob forward. The older mallard's feet shuffled forward the best he could manage without his cane.

"You're not going to make it out of here, Negaduck!" Jacob assured despite his current situation. "Let me go, boy!"

"Tell me how to get out of here!" Negaduck shouted again, more impatiently and more dangerously this time.

He had been so focused on the guards around him and looking for a way to escape that he didn't notice the flight of stairs leading down to the main floor of the laboratory in front of him. But Jacob did, and he intentionally tripped over the first step. both mallards lost their balance, but Negaduck had been caught off guard. Jacob managed to catch himself on the railing, but Negaduck stumbled forward and fell head over heels down the dozen steps. He crashed head-first into a lab table at the bottom, which left his disoriented for several seconds. It was just enough time for Jacob to hobble his way down the stairs after him. But instead of coming to the villain's aid, Jacob grabbed Negaduck by the collar of his black shirt, lifted him off of the ground, and began punching him repeatedly in the face.

"Mallard! No!"

"Someone get him!"

Jacob managed to get in five good punches before his associates managed to pull him off of Negaduck. Two others pulled the now bleeding and bruised felon to his feet, barely managing to keep him from rushing forward toward Jacob.

"You're just aqs screwed up as I am, old man!" Negaduck spat insultingly at Jacob, who was glowering and still being held back. "Fancy suit or not, you're just as screwed up as I am!" he shouted again as he was hauled out of the lab to be shut away in his cell once again.

Jacob panted heavily, trying to catch his breath and regain himself from the adrenaline rush. He vainly tried to adjust his now wrinkled and messed suit--he could still hear Negaduck shouting angrily in the distance.

"Are you alright?" Dr. Bellum asked frantically as she came up alongside him.

Despite the situation, Jacob brushed the feathers on his head back into place. "Increase his dosage to six milligrams."

The scientists looked to one another, puzzled and shocked.

"Sir, that's three times the normal amount," Dr. Grodin pointed out.

Jacob narrowed his eyes and growled lowly, "Just do it."


	4. Remorse

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: This chapter begins to dig into the two main relationships in this story: that of Negaduck/Jacob and of Darkwing/Jake. I really enjoyed writing this chapter, so I hope you enjoy reading it. Thank you to all of my reviewers!

**DISCLAIMER**: Negaduck, Darkwing Duck, Gosalyn, and Dr. Bellum are ©Disney. Jake Mallard is ©me. And Jacob Mallard is ©Amanda Rohrssen.

**CHAPTER 4**

The door to Negaduck's cell creaked loudly as it opened behind him. Once again, he was flopped down on the bed with another magazine to serve as his only form of entertainment.

"Hey, Negaduck," the agent by the name of Terry greeted jovially as if the two of them were buddies. In his hands he carried a tray with a plate of food and a glass of water balanced on its surface.

Negaduck looked up at the clock on the wall which read 5:30 in the last afternoon. He sat up and tossed the magazine to the side. "Thursday. Must be steak night, eh?" he scoffed as he jumped to his feet and made his way over to the small table.

"Yeah, I know the variety isn't much, but--"

Terry suddenly tripped rather clumsily over his own feet and stumbled forward. The tray of food toppled out of his hands--and directly onto the front of the public enemy's black shirt. Negaduck stepped back, lifting his arms to look at the mess running down the front of his shirt. He then looked up at Terry with an unpredictable gaze.

The agent frowned pathetically--it almost resembled a smirk. "Sorry about that, Negs."

For a second, it looked as if the murderous villain was about to lose his temper just like many occasions before. His hands clenched into fists and he inhaled sharply through his nostrils. But surprisingly, he opened his fists and waved it away.

"Don't worry about it."

There was a silent pause. A pause of astonishment. Finally, Terry spoke as he began to leave before Negaduck could change his mind about harming him. "I'll send someone in to clean it up."

A minute later, Terry stepped into the observation lab where Jacob was sitting behind a computer screen and the two doctors were filing through charts. The agent had a smug yet relieved smile on his face. "Well, he didn't hit me this time."

"Even _I_ could have made that fall look more believable," Dr. Grodin commented snidely from across the room.

"Hey, cut me some slack. I've already been walloped by that insane duck four times this week."

Jacob ignored the harmless bickering of his associates and continued to observe the data on the computer screen in front of him. He didn't break his gaze until he heard Dr. Bellum appear alongside him with the information he had been waiting for.

"I've got his MOA level," she informed flatly. This caught Jacob's attention. Dr. Bellum has been known to be an eccentric quack. Whenever she wasn't excited about something, it meant one of two things: Either something had amazed her or, more frequently, something was wrong.

"Well?" he asked anxiously and calmly faced her.

Dr. Bellum looked down at the graph in her hands to verify what she was about to tell him, and then handed the paper to him. "A 3.14."

Jacob blinked once before snatching the graph paper from her hands. His eyes scanned over all of the numbers and his face slowly fell.

"Incredible."

There was a short moment of silence before Dr. Bellum spoke again. "Sir, there is something else you should be aware of."

"What is it?" Jacob nearly snapped at her, wondering what news would come next.

Dr. Bellum's face went dark with worry. "I've heard some rumors from the main SHUSH facility," she reluctantly informed. "He is growing suspicious."

Jacob's eyes narrowed, quickly feeling threatened. He. The only threat to the experiment.

Chief Agent Jake Mallard.

His ice-cold green eyes scanned over the front page headline from last week's newspaper: 'PUBLIC ENEMY'S REIGN ENDED BY LETHAL INJECTION.' Despite the article being outdated by several days, he continued to read it and re-read it again and again for one reason: he didn't believe it. Something in his keen senses told him to believe otherwise.

But he had no proof, and that is what he is looking for.

With a grunt acknowledging a dead end, Chief Agent Jake Mallard crumpled the newspaper in his hand and tossed it begrudgingly over his shoulder into the wastebasket. Ever since Negaduck's 'execution,' Jake had a hunch that something was amiss. And he was smelling something fishy wafting through SHUSH. Director Hooter was constantly out of his office, tending to a 'confidential matter.' Yes, something was certainly going on which he did not know about. And Jake Mallard hated not knowing everything.

He sat back in his soft leather chair behind his desk in his large office. His fingers tapped restlessly on the desktop while his mind continued to work, turning over every possibility in his head. Then his eyes wandered to the stack of paperwork sitting on the corner of his desk which required his attention. Jake slid the top report toward him and gave it a quick read. At the bottom was the line requiring his signature, but instead of picking up a pen, he took the report and folded it into a paper airpline. With a mischievous grin, he prepared to the craft for flight, but he jumped in surprise when a dramatic voice echoed through his office.

"I am the terror that flaps in the night!" the voice declared as a cloud of blue smoke appeared in front of the door inside the office. "I am the papercut that ruins your day! I am Darkwiiiiiiiiing Duck!" the hero announced with a dramatic flourish of his cape.

Jake stared at the caped crusader with a raised brow, seeming unimpressed. "Have I ever told you that you could just knock?" he reminded.

"Knock? Moi? Pah!" Darkwing dismissed smugly, not dropping his theatrics for an instant. "The Mighty Masked Mallard doesn't need to knock when he can keep the element of surprise!"

"Indeed," the SHUSH agent muttered, but he was quick to dismiss the entrance and move right along to business. "Actually, I'm glad you showed up. I wanted to discuss something with you."

"Oh?" Darkwing asked, his interest perked upon hearing that Jake Mallard, whom he had come to see as a father figure in his life, wanted to speak to him. "And how, pray tell, can I offer my assistance?" he continued as he sauntered into the room.

"It's about Negaduck."

The hero's face fell for an instant before he scoffed with an amused grin. "Negaduck? That deceased devil of deviance? That felon has finally said his farewell and boarded the ferry to Hell. What could you possible want to know about him now?" he inquired and plopped down in the chair in front of Jake's desk.

Jake leaned forward, his expression dark and sincere, as always. "I don't think he's dead."

Darkwing blinked once as he stared back into the mallard's green eyes. Then, quite suddenly, he burst out into laughter. "Come on, Agent Mallard! You think he's still alive? Ha! You and a dozen other witnesses saw him pumped full of poison and die on that cold metal table! I'll admit ol' Negs was one tough bird, but not even he could have survived that!" he pointed out with a smirk still on his bill.

But Jake's hard expression didn't change, and Darkwing immediately dropped his jovial demeanor. "Really? You think so? Why?"

"Because something is going on inside of SHUSH. Something secretive," Jake informed, frustrated at the thought of being kept in the dark. "Director Hooter is always out of the office, supervising some confidential matter." He turned his head to stare distantly out the window. "And I just have a feeling that he's still out there. It was all too simple to destroy him."

Darkwing's brows raised suspiciously. "But why wouldn't you have been informed of this? You're the Chief Agent," he acknowledged skeptically. "No one knows of your relation to Negaduck but you and me."

That important fact raised a red flag in Jake's mind, and his eyes narrowed as realization hit him.

"And Jacob Mallard..."

Darkwing's eyes went wide. Jake was right. Aside from the two of them in that office and Negaduck himself, Jacob was the only one who knew of Jake and Negaduck's blood ties. "Do you think that slick SHUSH agent has something to do with it?"

Jake paused. Then he stood up out of his chair and wandered to a file cabinet against the wall. He pulled open the top drawer and shifted through some files toward the front before pulling out a single folder. Opening the folder, he looked over the few documents inside while he paced back and forth. "Several months ago, he requested to perform a scientific experiment through SHUSH. I don't have any details here because I rejected his proposal. But it wouldn't surprise me if Director Hooter overruled my decision."

"Of course! J. Gander and Jacob are close pals," Darkwing remembered with a disgusted sneer.

"And Jacob would go to any measure to keep me in the dark, especially if it involves Negaduck."

There was a silent pause before Darkwing dramatically jumped to his feet, causing Jake to once again jump in surprise. "Have no fear, Agent Mallard! For Darkwing Duck is not tied by the rules and regulations of the SHUSH handbook!" he declared while pointing a finger into the air. With a sweep of his cape, he spun around and darted toward the door, where he turned back around to face Jake once again. "If that volatile villain's veins are still pumping, Darkwing Duck will find him!"

With those final words, Darkwing turned and stealthily stalked his way out of the office.

Jake could only groan and roll his eyes.

It was night in the secretive SHUSH laboratory. Aside from a few security guards and a couple of nightshift agents, the rest of the staff had gone home for the evening, resting for another full day of work. But one mallard was not sleeping soundly.

Negaduck continuously tossed and turned on the uncomfortable bed, tangling himself in the thin sheets and burying his face in the scratchy pillow. His brows were furrowed over his closed eyes and sweat dampened the feathers on his face. Dreams were distressing his sleep, and they were the same dreams he had been experiencing for the past couple of nights.

Gunshots. Angry yelling. Frightened screams. All of the sounds overlapped one another in his mind. He saw terrified faces of his victims as he mercilessly gunned them down. But one face stood out from all the rest--that of a young girl with curly red locks and innocent, bright green eyes. She wore a pink dress despite being subjected to the hell she was forced to live in.

Gosalyn.

Images of that fateful day when she came into the villain's care flashed through his mind. Negaduck's distraught face twisted as he heard himself shouting and swearing angrily at the child who would only do everything she could to please him. Then he heard her crying, and saw her frail figure sobbing in the corner...

With a loud gasp, Negaduck sat upright in the bed, his eyes wide and his breathing labored.

The cane clanked loudly on the metallic catwalk at a fast pace. Jacob moved in quick strides through the quiet lab to where an agent and a security guard were waiting. Both of their faces were full of confusion, which added more concern to Jacob's expression.

"What happened?" he asked anxiously. The guard only motioned toward Negaduck's cell.

Jacob burst inside the small room to a shocking scene. Negaduck was sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched over with his elbows on his knees and his hands cradling his face.

And he was sobbing.

"What's happening? What's wrong?" Jacob asked as he rushed forward. He dropped to a crouching position in front of Negaduck and placed his hand on the villain's shoulder. When Negaduck lifted his face, tears were streaking down his face, and he was gasping for breath between his distressed sobs. "Negaduck, what is it?"

"I keep seeing her face!" he wailed in reply.

Jacob shook his head slowly, trying to understand. "Who? Whose face?"

"Gosalyn's!"

The older mallard's face fell as he understood. "From the Negaverse?"

"Every time I close my eyes, she's there!" Negaduck choked as he stared desperately at Jacob in front of him. "I was robbing a bank a few years back, and her parents were innocent bystanders who I gunned down while making my escape. I kidnaped her in hopes of getting a ransom, but I didn't know those were her parents!" He paused for a moment, taking deep breaths so that he could continue. His clenched his hands tightly in front of him and shook his head as he went on. "When I found out that plan had failed, I was just gonna dump her somewhere. But she began catering to my every demand, so I kept her around just so I could have someone to do whatever I wanted!"

Jacob's bill slowly fell open in response to the criminal's confession. Negaduck's shoulders began to convulse as he was racked with another round of violent sobbing, and Jacob gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze.

"I would yell at the kid simply because I took joy in it," Negaduck continued as he began to slowly calm. His hands came up to cover his face again. "I liked exerting my power and releasing on my anger on her because she would take it. She would put up with it because she actually believed I cared about her."

"What's important is that you realize what you did was wrong," Jacob stated in an assuring, soothing voice.

"But why can't I sleep?" Negaduck demanded pleadingly, throwing his hands down from his face so that he could stare at Jacob with his teary blue eyes. "I just want to lay my head down, close my eyes, and not see her face..."

Jacob swallowed the breath he had been holding as the once hardened criminal's now broken eyes pierced his own. But he nodded once, and slowly rose to his feet. He placed his strong hands on both of Negaduck's shoulders and stared down at him. "It's going to be okay, alright?"

Negaduck grabbed at the feathers on his head, clenching them tightly in his fingers, and shook his head as he began to sob again. A strong feeling overcame Jacob right then as he watched the emotionally pained mallard. It was an emotion he thought had been lost long ago, and he suddenly feel it arise inside of him once again at that moment. And he obeyed that feeling by taking Negaduck's head gently in his hands and pulled him in a comforting embrace against his chest.

"You're going to be okay," Jacob whispered while Negaduck's distressed cries continued.

A few minutes later, Jacob reappeared in the control room where the guards and the agents were waiting, eagerly awaiting the news. The mallard calmly adjusted his tie and blazer with his free hand as he looked toward one of thee agents. "Terry, give him an insomnia pill, two for every time he can't sleep. And page the staff. I want everyone here an hour early in the morning," he ordered. Once he received a nod of compliance from the others, he slowly gave them a triumphant smile.

"Ladies and gentlemen...we have remorse."


	5. Suspicion

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I apologize for a short installment this time, but all of the Jake fans out there will be happy. Sorry, not much Negaduck in this chapter. And I'm afraid I may not get a chance to update again for a while. The fall semester starts up next week, and it will be a busy semester for me. So I will update when I am able. Thank you to my past reviewers!

DISCLAIMER: Jacob Mallard is ©Amanda Rohrssen and is being used with her permission. Jake Mallard is ©Rachel Faraday (me). Negaduck and J. Gander Hooter are ©Disney. To learn more about the rivalry between Jacob and Jake, read my story _The Path of Consequence._

**CHAPTER 5**

"Are you certain he is not faking it?" J. Gander asked with caution. He and Jacob were walking through the secretive compound the following day, and the SHUSH director had just been informed of the previous night's events.

"Positive," Jacob replied firmly, confident of his own analysis. "His passive biomarkers have improved within the past week, and the aggressors have been diminishing. What happened last night only supports the research findings, John. I'm certain that it's working."

They stopped in front of the facility's exits, and Jacob gave his old friend a successful smile. "I think we're ready for Phase 2."

J. Gander studied Jacob's face for a moment, and he could see the eager sparkle in his black eyes. And he could see the confidence. "Come with me to my office. We will make the final arrangements there."

"I don't care how they were lost, Agent. Those field analysis reports were more valuable than your life!"

Chief Agent Jake Mallard was once again faced with the task of executing disciplinary action upon one of SHUSH's less-than-finer agents. It was minuscule task in his day of duties, and it was an exhausting one. But he had to admit, he did like the petrified expressions of terror on each and every one of the agents' faces as they were confronted with Jake's wrath. The rookie agent standing before the merciless chief hadn't uttered a word since he stepped into the feared office.

"I don't care of Bigfoot took them!" Jake snarled from behind his desk. His narrowed brows shadowed his eyes, giving him a more darker appearance, and thus further intimidating the already shaken agent. "Just find those reports, Agent! Or else your job and any hope of future employment anywhere in this city will be lost as well!"

The agent, unable to find his voice, could only nod vigorously before making his exit out of the office as smoothly as possible. But Jake could see him shaking, and he could smell the sweat on the youngster's forehead. This brought a pleased smile to the mallard's face. How he loved striking fear into those below him--one trait which he shared with his villainous son. Despite donning the badge of SHUSH, he certainly wasn't saint.

Just as Jake was ready to go fetch himself a rejuvenating cup of black coffee, there came a knock at his office door.

"Enter!" Jake barked in an agitated tone.

The door slowly pushed open and a young female agent timidly poked her head inside. "Agent Mallard?"

"Ah, Nora. Come in," he replied, his voice now more welcoming. Jake was always more cordial to the women of SHUSH for obvious reasons. He was a man, afterall. His sharp appearance, his status, and his charm made it easy for him to make any female swoon for him. This was good for his ego. "What can I do for you?"

"I've got that report from the morgue you requested," Nora informed in a professional manner, although the request had been anything but professional. Jake had wanted to get his hands on the death certificate and morgue papers regarding Negaduck's execution. However, Director Hooter had locked the file as confidential, and made it impossible for even the Chief Agent to see the paperwork. But that wouldn't stop Jake. He knew Agent Nora Daniels was a shy young woman with low self-confidence. And she was a lead physician in the morgue. So with the help of his charisma and sensuality, Jake was able to get Nora to grant him this favor in return for a 'favor' of her own.

Jake passed her one of his sly smiles and held out his hand in which Nora set the file. Without saying another word to her, Jake opened the file and read over its contents regarding his son's execution. What he was really looking for was the death certificate, which he found to be the last page. His eyes immediately fell upon the authorized signature. Normally, it would have been signed by the head physician on duty that evening. But it was signed by someone else.

Jacob Mallard.

He slammed the folder shut and quickly got to his feet. Jake strode past Nora without a second glance and was out of the office within seconds.

Now he was confident. Jake knew Negaduck was still alive, and that Jacob had something to do with his survival. This would explain his counterpart's presence had been scarce around SHUSH for the past couple of weeks.

The chief agent made his way through SHUSH, sweeping by other agents who quickly tried to make way. He kept his eyes sharp for any sign of his Jacob or one of his closer associates. After he had nearly made a full round through the building, he was prepared to turn back and resort to other means of finding his double's location. But just as he rounded a corner near the director's office, there they were.

Jacob and J. Gander.

They were about twenty feet in front of him, discussing with one another, and neither had yet noticed his presence. Before they could see him, Jake spun back around and hid himself around the corner, but he leaned in close to listen in on their conversation.

"All of the arrangements have been made. I just hope you've considered all of the possible consequences of rushing into Phase 2 prematurely," J. Gander said skeptically. The concern of something going wrong was clear in his voice. "I've thought long and hard about this, Jacob. And I trust your discretion. This is entirely your call."

"He's ready," came Jacob's insistent response. "I have staff monitoring the other test subjects, but I will continue to focus on Negaduck. All I need from you, John, is to uphold the secrecy of this project. That is perhaps the most important element of the experiment. We cannot let anyone outside the assigned staff know about what we are doing. If Negaduck is revealed to the authorities, nothing can stop them from killing him."

Jake held his breath as he listened. Upon hearing that his suspicions were correct, he smiled devilishly.

"Of course, Jacob. If you require my assistance on anything else, don't hesitate to ask," J .Gander reminded.

Sensing the conversation was coming to a close, Jake quietly shuffled away down the hallway before he could be spotted. Jacob gave J. Gander's hand a friendly, concluding handshake and nodded before they left in opposite directions.

Jacob made swift strides back to his office with his head held high. He figured it would probably be wise to check in for any messages or minor work that required his attention before his cover began to slip, exposing the experiment. But first, he had to make another stop to take care of other important business.

He pushed open the door to the empty men's restroom and stepped over to one of the urinals lined up against the wall, unzipped his gray trousers, and began to relieve himself. But before Jacob could finish, he heard the restroom door creak open again. Thinking nothing of it, he didn't look up from his business until the identical mallard stopped at the urinal to his right.

"Well, the famed Jacob Mallard decides to resurface in broad daylight," Jake stated casually as if the two of them were best friends. He lowered the zipper of his black slacks and mimicked Jacob's actions.

There was something in Jake's tone of voice that made the feathers on the back of Jacob's neck stand on end. And his devious double's shifty posture sent up a red flag to be cautious with his words. There was suspicion in the air.

"Resorting to harassing me in the men's room, Mallard?" Jacob sneered without looking up, determined to keep his cool and calm demeanor while in Jake's presence. He couldn't risk the experiment being discovered, especially by the Chief Agent. "Or perhaps the curiosity of just who is the bigger mallard got the better of you. Tsk, tsk. A bit insecure, are we?"

Jake brushed off the lude accusation and fired back with his own. "I'm not the one with something to hide, Agent," he growled lowly in his gravelly voice. "You've made the effort to be scarce around SHUSH. Don't think I haven't noticed. Been keeping busy?"

Without even so much as a flinch to confirm the suspicion, Jacob zipped up his pants and turned away. "I don't know what you're talking about, 'Sir'," he argued, emphasizing Jake's title with disdain as he approached the sink to wash his hands.

"Of course you don't," Jake humored with a roll of his eyes. He knew Jacob was a smooth operator, and that finding the proof he needed would be a difficult task. Once finished, he zipped up his pants and joined his double at the sink. "I know you're up to something, Mallard. You can't bullshit a bullshitter," he commented over the running water."

"Well, it takes one to know one, right?" Jacob shot back and looked at him with a raised brow. His voice was calm, but Jake could sense the cynicism and passed him a glare in return. They were the same duck with a crafty mind, and they each knew how the other one played the game.

"Whatever it is, I'll find out," Jake promised. He shut off the water and dried his hands with a paper towel. "You'll slip up, and when you do--"

Jacob interrupted with a low amused chuckle while he also dried his hands. "Believe me, ol' boy. The last time I slipped up, I got a bullet in my leg, and I have you to thank for that," he said and leveled himself on his cane. "I've made a lot of promises in my lifetime, many of which I haven't been able to uphold. Once again, I thank you for that dilemma. However, one promise which I made long ago which I do intend to keep was to never let myself be taken off guard by you again."

His words were so firm, so sincere, that they sent a small wave of paranoia through Jake's body. Then he vowed to himself to see that Jacob broke yet another promise. He would uncover whatever he was doing and put another bullet in his other leg if the chance comes along. But for now, he would back down.

And wait.

Jake silently sneered as Jacob walk past and out the door without passing another glance in his eternal enemy's direction. The rivalry between Jake and Jacob Mallard greatly dwarfed that of their son's, Darkwing Duck and Negaduck. It was a battle of epic proportions that would never end until one stole the other's life.

The following morning, Jacob burst into Negaduck's cell with a bright smile on his face. He looked like an excited young man.

"Well?" he asked the villain eagerly.

Negaduck nervously wrung his hands together from where he sat. "I'm not sure I'm ready for this..."

But Jacob was confident enough for both of them, and he stepped forward to place a hand encouragingly on his shoulder.

"Of course you are. You're ready, Drake."


	6. New Life

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Whew! It's been a while since I've updated! So sorry for the long wait--college has started up again, and I've been very busy so far this semester between classes, work, and applying for internships. I hope I can get the chance to update again sometime in the near future. I will do my best! But until then, please enjoy this installment! Reviews are always appreciated, and thank you to my pst reviewers!

**DISCLAIMER: **Negaduck/Drake Mallard, Gosalyn, Dr. Bellum, and SHUSH are ©Disney. Jacob Mallard is ©Amanda Rohrssen. All of the other miscellaneous characters are ©me.

**CHAPTER 6**

Despite sitting in the back seat of a luxurious, leather seated sedan instead of a squad car, the ex-villain remained incredibly anxious. His blue eyes stared out of the lightly tinted window, watching the buildings pass by and staring at the citizens that carried on with their every day lives on the street's sidewalk.

The car was lead by a black SHUSH SUV, and closely followed by another behind. Even though he was being carefully guarded in his transit, Drake couldn't seem to sit still. He kept expecting the hear the wail of police sirens at any moment. And not being aware of exactly where he was being taken only added to the anxiety he was feeling.

The vehicle slowed, lawfully stopping for a red light. The momentary stop allowed Drake to take in a deep, calming breath. But he instantly choked when he looked to his right. A police cruiser harmlessly stopped alongside the car, and Drake instantly sunk down into the leather seat, trying to make himself disappear from sight. In the seat beside him, Jacob's eyes shifted in his direction to notice his behavior and he couldn't help but smirk.

"If you keep doing that, we'll get pulled over for sure, boy," he pointed out but without an ouce of worry in his voice.

As soon as they moved forward through the green light, Drake cautiously sat up in his seat. "Can you blame me? I can't remember the last time I was out in sight of the public without the authorities on my tail." Then he grunted in discomfort. "And is this thing really necessary?" he asked, pulling up the right leg of his pants to reveal a metal band locked around his ankle. "It's too tight, and it hurts!"

"You'll get used to the electronic monitoring device," Jacob assured. "But it has to stay on, for your own safety if anything else."

The journey didn't last much longer. Five minutes later, they came to a stop to a small streetside apartment building in one of the less busy areas of town. It had to have been one of the oldest buildings in the city, and anyone who'd pass by would automatically assume it was abandoned. Jacob got out of the black car first, then rounded to the other side to open the other car door. When Drake climbed out of the car, he looked up at the building and blinked.

"This is it?" he asked, making a displeased face. "I thought you boys were made of money!"

Jacob slammed the car door shut and began to escort him inside the old brick building. "Even SHUSH is on a budget. Besides, it will be like a five star hotel compared to those abandoned warehouses you used to hole yourself up in," he pointed out. Drake only rolled his eyes and followed Jacob inside and up the stairs of the shabby building. The agent removed a key ring with a single key when they reached the first door on the third floor and used it to unlock the door. Graciously he opened the door and lead Drake inside.

The apartment was small, but not ridiculously so. It had one bedroom and a single bathroom. The kitchen area was attached to the dining/living area, and there was one window looking out to the street. The only furniture were necessities: a couch, a coffee table, a small dining table with two chairs, a refrigerator, and a bed and dresser in the bedroom. Drake wandered inside, taking in his new surroundings. He passed through the living area to take a quick glance out the window, and then continued exploring the small area. He looked mesmerized. The villain hadn't been inside of a living residence since he was a small child--unless he was robbing it, of course. It was like a whole new experience for him.

"You know, it's..." Drake began, taking a quick peek into the kitchen and then looked back at Jacob. "It's not too bad."

Jacob gave him a small smirk and leaned against the nuclear orange colored couch. "It may not be much, but it's a decent start, and it will feel more like home than a prison cell."

Drake brushed off the statement, even though he knew it was true. He stepped up to the white refrigerator and pulled the door open. "Hey, it's empty!" he informed with genuine surprise and looked over his shoulder questionably.

But the old mallard shrugged. "Guess you'll have to go to the store."

The ex-con stared at him as if he had lobsters crawling out of his ears.

Jacob reached into his jacket and pulled out a neatly folded stack of bills as he walked toward him. "Here's five hundred dollars to last you for a while--until you get yourself a job."

Again, Drake did a double-take. "Come again? A...job?"

"Yes, a JOB," Jacob repeated patiently and placed the money into his hand. "It's a prerequisite for becoming a contributing member of society."

Drake had no words to respond with, and Jacob could see the hesitation and self-doubt in his eyes. The senior agent wrapped his hand around his shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile. "Relax. It won't be as hard as it seems. Roam the city a bit, get used to the surroundings as a new man, go get yourself some groceries." Then Jacob added jokingly, "Just don't rob the place. That's what the money is for. If you need anything, you've got my card for emergencies only."

"Right," Drake said distantly, beginning to have second thoughts.

Before he could voice his thoughts, Jacob turned away and walked toward the door. He opened the door, and paused to look over his shoulder at the ex-criminal for a few last words of encouragement. "You're going to be fine, Drake."

He tossed the apartment keys to him. Then, he left.

But Jacob didn't g too far. In fact, he made it half way down the hall, looked over his shoulder, and then opened the door to the third unit away. Inside, SHUSH had set up an observation base, complete with radios, staff, and televisions displaying the pictures of the four hidden cameras inside of Drake's apartment. Jacob immediately stepped over to those, already curious to see what his test subject was up to.

"Well, he hasn't stabbed anyone yet, so that's a good start," Dr. Grodin pointed out a little more jovially than needed.

"Bellum, first chance we get, I want a serotonin analysis.," Jacob instructed, already too absorbed into his own observation to hear her acknowledge his request.

The surveillance filmed Drake as he wandered absently around the small apartment and looked out the window. Immediately, the young mallard sensed something. Like he was being watched. He turned around and let his eyes wander over every inch of the room, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Then he noticed a very small, nearly unnoticeable silver circle that looked like the top of a thumb tac on the wall near the ceiling, just above the couch. His eyes narrowed suspiciously, and he strode across the room to hop up onto the couch.

As he lifted his head to get a better look at the hidden camera, every brow of the agents in the other room raised.

"Looks like Negs took the 'hidden' out of 'hidden camera,'" Dr. Grodin muttered.

Drake waved into the camera. Dr. Grodin waved back. Jacob only groaned and shook his head.

That first day, Drake kept himself holed up in his new living environment. It wasn't until the following afternoon that he decided to face the society he had terrorized for many years. And even as he walked down the busy sidewalk through downtown Saint Canard, he couldn't shake the intimidation that overwhelmed him. He found himself looking at every face that passed him, many of which he recognized as victims of his crimes. He tried not to make eye contact, knowing that it would come back to haunt him in his dreams. Instead, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his khaki pants and kept walking aimlessly down the sidewalk.

The dreams hadn't left him. The previous night was full of nightmares, the screams of his victims, and her face. Gosalyn. They were stronger than ever, and he was beginning to wonder if they would drive him to insanity. Well, he was never exactly sane to begin with.

Every minute he would look over his shoulder, expecting to see someone in hot pursuit behind him. As Negaduck, he couldn't show his face in public without gaining at least half a dozen police cruisers on his tail. In a way, it was unnerving. Still, his suspicions of being constantly followed were not entirely a result of habit or paranoia.

Parked on the opposite side of the street was a black van. A normal looking bulldog in civilian clothing was sitting in the driver's seat with a more spindly canine in the passenger's seat beside him. In the back of the van was a portable SHUSH surveillance set-up with two suited agents sitting at its controls in mounted chairs. Three television screens recorded Drake's movements at different angles as he continued down the street.

"What's he doing?" one of the agents asked suspiciously. "I thought he was supposed to be job hunting."

"The boss said to let him be for the first couple of days to let him ease into the surroundings," the other answered matter-of-factly. "We're just supposed to make sure he stays within the city and that he sticks to legalities."

The first grunted his opposition. "I dunno. I still think this whole thing will end up being a big mistake."

"Hey, give Mallard's experiment a chance. You can teach an old dog new tricks, you know."

"Yeah, but the 'old dog' is never a blood-thirsty, homicidal maniac who gets his kicks out of mangling kittens."

"Ladies, enough," the bulldog in the front interrupted, which earned him glowers from his associates. He put the van into drive, and the vehicle slowly rolled out into the street to discretely follow their subject.

Drake continued to look around himself in a sense of silent awe. It had been the first time he had actually looked at the city around him. Being constantly on the run and being chased by Darkwing Duck distracted him from taking in the details of the city which he called home. But then the situation at hand came back to him. He wasn't Negaduck anymore. He was just an ordinary, every day citizen of Saint Canard.

Right?

If so, then that meant he had to carry out with the conditions of Jacob's experiment. Drake stopped on the sidewalk, and he looked up just in time to see the black van park across the street from him. His sharp sense he had developed as a criminal were immediately on alert, and he eyed the van suspiciously out of the corner of his eyes.

There was a newspaper dispenser on the sidewalk. Digging into his pocket, he pulled out some change, and bought himself a newspaper. The agents in the van watched him curiously.

"Now what's he doing?" the suspicious agent asked.

"He's checking out the 'classified' section," the other said matter-of-factly as they observed the mallard open up the newspaper with their cameras.

Drake took a moment to scan over the newspaper. It was odd not to see himself on any of the headlines for a dishonorable crime, but the entire city still believed he was dead. He closed the paper, and then wandered over to a phone booth. After retrieving another quarter from his pocket, he picked up the receiver, slid the coin into the slot, and dialed a number. Meanwhile, the SHUSH van and its occupants stood by and watched.

"See? Give the guy some credit," the more sympathetic agent asserted.

But the public enemy wasn't calling in about a job.

"Yeah? No, you don't know of me, but I know of you. I got your name from Butch, at the Old Haunt," Drake spoke into the phone. He even went so far as to disguise his voice, bumping the tone up half on octave so that he sounded more like his do-gooder double than Negaduck. "Look, all I can spare is $250. Why? Because I've gotta buy groceries, that's why! Alright, in half an hour then. Fine."

He hung up the phone and let out a deep exhale. For a split second, he regretted what he had just done. But he quickly reminded himself of why he was doing it, and stepped out of the phone booth. With a final glance in the direction of the ominous van to his left, he continued on his way down the sidewalk.

Half an hour later, Drake was wandering through the Golden Goose Corner Market. The last time he was in this place was many years ago, just after he had come to the Normalverse to begin his reign of terror. He had robbed the store on a couple occasions when he became bored and just needed something to do. The old clerk was even still working the register. But this time, instead of having a gun in his hand, he had a grocery basket.

There were already a few items in his basket as he continued to wander down the aisles. He was searching for one more thing, but it wasn't bread or milk. Drake found what he was looking for when he spotted a short, grungy looking pelican in a brown leather jacket in front of a shelf of canned vegetables. In one of his hands was a small paper bag. The mallard's blue eyes shifted back and forth suspiciously before he made his way down the aisle and stopped directly behind the pelican with his back to his.

"You got what I want?" Drake muttered while he pretending to be occupied with the decision of whether to purchase the whole grain or wheat bread.

The pelican lifted his head, but didn't yet turn around. "You're late."

"I had to walk," Drake retorted with a sneer. He turned around and looked down at the pelican, who also turned to meet his client. Drake reached into his pocket and removed $250 cash, which he swiftly exchanged for the paper bag. The pelican greedily pocketed the money, and Drake opened up the bag with his eyes gleaming at what was inside.

A pistol and a box of bullets.

"You know, you remind me of someone I've seen inside the big house before," the pelican observed.

"Yeah?" Drake humored as he closed up the bag and moved past him as if nothing had occurred. "Must not have been me then..."

Late that night, Drake lay wide awake in the dark on his bed. It wasn't the most comfortable, but it was certainly an improvement form the one back at SHUSH. His arms were folded behind his head, and he stared blankly up at the ceiling. The green glow from the a neon sign across the street shone in through his window, contributing to his insomnia. Finally, he turned his head to glance at the digital clock, which read 3:47 a.m.

Drake got up out of the bed, and wandered into the other room in his boxer shorts. He found a marker and a pad of paper, on which he wrote down a quick message.

In the room down the hall, Agent Terry was pouring himself his fifth cup of coffee during his shift when he saw thei mage of the mallard wander up to one of the hidden camera. He held up the piece of paper.

'CAN'T SLEEP'

A few minutes later, Drake opened the door to his apartment to the agent.

"Nightmares again?" agent Terry asked as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

Drake gave a tired sigh and nodded. "Yeah. They're not easin' up."

The agent handed him the small paper cup, which the ex-villain was becoming conditioned to, and inside were two insomnia pills.

"I can only give you two, you know. Jacob's orders to--"

"Hey you wanna hang around and play some cards or something?" Drake asked harmlessly as he took the cup from him. "It's gonna take these things twenty minutes to kick in."

"Sorry, can't," Agent Terry answered apologetically. "Mallard says I'm not supposed to do anything that could affect your environment."

Drake laughed as he headed for the refrigerator. "Yeah, right! Like a hand of cards is really going to destroy my new life!" He opened the refrigerator and leaned toward it, reaching for two glass bottles but also blocking the agent from seeing what he was doing. "Come on! I got this kick ass root beer you've gotta try. You guys won't let me have any alcohol so I sprang for the good stuff!" As he spoke, he opened the two soda bottles slipped the two sleeping bills into the one on the left.

"Wish I could, Drake. But I really can't," Agent Terry insisted as Drake turned around and approached him. "I've got orders to follow, you know."

Then Drake shrugged in defeat with one bottle in each of his hands. "Alright, sure. No problem." He held out the soda bottle in his left hand toward him. "Here, take it. It's already opened anyway."

Thinking of it as only a harmless gesture, Agent Terry took it from him. "Thanks," he said before taking a swig and then licking the remnants from his lips. "Alright, get some sleep," he concluded with a nod.

"Will do," Drake responded and escorted him to the door. And as he closed the door after the agent left, a devious smile slid across the bill.

Forty-five minutes later, Agent Terry was passed out on the desk in front of the surveillance monitors. The cameras watched as Drake pulled on his slacks and black turtleneck. The last thing he grabbed was the brown paper bag from the table before he swiftly left the apartment. There was only one way to get that red-headed girl out of his dreams...


	7. Killing Conscience

**DISCLAIMER:** Darkwing Duck, Drake Mallard, Negaduck, Gosalyn, and all of those familiars are owned by Disney. Jake Mallard belongs to ME and ONLY ME. Jacob Mallard strictly belongs to Amanda Rohrssen. No touchie.

Thank you to past reviewers! Enjoy chapter seven!

**CHAPTER 7**

It was still the early hours of the morning, and the sun was just beginning to rise over the horizon. While the hard workers of Saint Canard were just contemplating getting out of bed, one mallard was already in his office. The SHUSH facility was still quiet, but it would be alive with the usual daily hubbub within the next couple of hours.

His stone-hard black eyes passed over the old photograph which he held gently in his hands. The edges of the parchment were creased and torn, a sign that the photo had been handled frequently throughout the past decade. Not a day went by when Jacob Mallard wouldn't pause in his duties to look at the faces of his since departed family. The gentle eyes of his deceased wife seemed to sparkle up at him, temporarily softening his hard exterior. God, how he missed her. But along with the warm feelings of reminiscing came the angry feelings of guilt and regret. If only there had been some way to go back and prevent it all from happening, then maybe he would still be with his family instead of becoming the bitter old agent he was now.

He stared at the face of the young mallard in the photograph, who was a spitting image of Jacob when he had been the same age. His son was still alive, that was true. But Jacob was dead to the crime fighter. Darkwing Duck still believed that his father was the reason for everything that had happened to their family, which was far from the truth. And Jake Mallard was the one to thank for that misunderstanding.

The morning, which had been silent up to that point, was interrupted by the digital ringing of Jacob's private phone line. He gave a short start, a bit perturbed from being interrupted, and he picked up the receiver of the telephone on his desk.

"Yes?"

"Sir? We have a problem. A big problem."

The streets of downtown Saint Canard were congested with the morning rush hour traffic. Even the sidewalks were crowded with citizens walking their daily route to work, so none took notice of the mallard who walked briskly by them. Drake kept his gaze fixed forward, not making eye contact with anyone. In one hand he clutched the brown paper bag with its contents hidden inside. His brows were narrowed over his eyes, determined not to stop until he reached his destination.

Drake was so entrenched with his mission that he didn't notice that he caught someone's attention--the last person whom he'd want to see him.

At a corner gas station, Jake had just finished up refueling his black BMW and was about to be on his way to SHUSH. But just as he was about to get into the car, he saw something out of the corner of his eye, forcing him to do a double take. There, on the opposite side of the street. A young mallard in a black turtleneck striding down the street. His physical appearance, his features, set something off inside of the agent's sharp mind. It took only a few seconds for him to make the connection.

Negaduck.

Even Jake knew his own son, with or without the mask.

His green eyes narrowed angrily. So, the villain hadn't been executed. For some reason, Jake had a strong sense that Negaduck had still been alive, and his suspicions proved to be right. And he knew who was to blame.

But a confrontation with Jacob Mallard would have to wait. Jake got into his car, and then he pulled out into traffic to discretely follow the ex-con.

"How did he get by the agent on duty?"

"Sleeping Pills. He slipped the medications into Terry's drink."

Jacob growled angrily and ran his fingers through the slicked back feathers on his hand. He began to pace back and forth inside of the apartment which Drake had fled from a couple of hours ago. There was nothing left behind to draw any conclusions as to where he planned to go.

"Do we have a transmission on the tracer yet?" Jacob asked curtly.

And agent stood hunched over a laptop on the tabletop. With a few key strokes, a map of the city popped up onto the screen. The screen zoomed in on a small red dot that was slowly moving across the map. The transmitter that had been locked onto Drake's ankle was relaying a signal back to the computer.

"We've got him," the agent announced. He punched in a few more codes into the computer, but then his brows furrowed into a perplexed expression. "Hmm. That can't be right."

"What is it?" Jacob asked in an alert tone. In three strides he was across the room and standing behind the agent.

"According to the transmitter, he just stopped." There was a pause, waiting for any change on the screen. There was none. "He's stopped."

Jacob's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Where?"

"Uh..." the agent paused to get the coordinates on the screen. "On the corner of Sixth and Feather. The Sugar 'N Spice and Everything Nice Bakery. Heh, went through a lot for an early morning sweet tooth."

But Jacob was far less than amused. Instead, he shoved the agents aside in a panic. "Let me see," he demanded. After seeing for himself, his eyes went wide. "Dammit!" he cursed angrily. He spun around and hurriedly made his way toward the door.

"Sir! Why the concern?" another agent called after him while everyone else watched in confusion. "It's not as if he's leaving the city!"

Jacob stopped in the doorway and glanced over his shoulder with a grim frown. "Oh, he's leaving the city..."

The Negaverse.

It definitely wasn't how he remembered. The Friendly Four have been following through with their vows to keep the city clean and safe while it's villainous overlord was away. Most of the buildings had been revamped, the polluting factories had been shut down, and the local criminal scum had been driven out of town. Now it was nearly identical to its parallel counterpart.

But the city's transformation seemed to have very little effect on Drake as he wandered down the street. Instead of reacting in a violent outrage, he continued down the sidewalk and took in the surroundings with a sense of silent awe. If he didn't know any better, he'd think he was still in the Normalverse. To think that he once ruled this city with an iron fist and reduced it to desolate ruin. He was convinced he could easily do it again, but right now, he had a different purpose for being back in his homeworld.

No one gave him a second glance as he headed out of the city and into the suburbs. Not one person recognized as he passed, which was astounding to him. Instead of people cowering and bowing down to Negaduck, the friendly faces would smile and nod at their fellow every day citizen.

Finally, Drake reached his destination in the suburbs. There were children playing catch and hopscotch in the middle of Avian Way, paying him no mind as he continued down the sidewalk. He turned into the driveway of 537 Avian Way. On the outside, the house had gone through some renovations. It had been repainted, the lawn was green and mowed, there were even rows of flowers lining the pathway. Drake made a disgusted face to see that his once dark abode had also undergone a cheerful transformation. He stepped up to the white door and turned the doorknob. Not surprisingly, it was unlocked. Drake stepped inside, part of him hoping that the interior of the house had remained a mess with Launchpad's arsenal lying all over the floor. But to his dismay, it was spotless. Nothing was out of place, and the old worn furniture had since been replaced with new chairs and couches. The entire place was nearly unrecognizable.

There was no sign of his lumbering lackey, Launchpad. The only sounds he heard were those of the children playing outside. Drake wandered over to the window and looked out in the direction of the neighbors. From the looks of things, the Muddlefoots must have left down. Their usual yard decorations which made the place resemble a cannibalistic voodoo scene from a horror movie were gone, replaced with lawn gnomes and plastic pink flamingos.

Drake let out an involuntary shudder. These new surroundings were beginning to make his insides twist. But even though he wanted to leave, he had a job to do. He needed to find her. From the looks of the house, there appeared to be no one home. It was quite possible that she was no longer residing at 537 Avian Way. But that wouldn't stop him from tracking her down.

Just as he was about to leave the home and continue his search, he heard a startled gasp from behind.

"Oh! I'm sorry! If you knocked, I apologize that I didn't hear you! I was upstairs dusting my room."

Drake spun around to see the young girl descending the stairs with an apologetic expression on her innocent face. Unlike everything else in the Negaverse, he appearance hadn't changed. She still wore the pink dress with a pair of black shoes, and her curly red locks were pulled back in pink ribbons to match her outfit. The very sight of her sweetness made the mallard want to pull his teeth out.

Gosalyn bounded up to her new guest, whom she did not recognize. "Are you looking for the Friendly Four? They're at the Convention Center heading the 'Save the Squirrels' rally! But I'm Gosalyn Mallard, and I'd be glad to be of service," she offered cheerfully with a dainty curtsy.

Drake groaned silently to himself, momentarily questioning his reasons for being back in his abode. But his motives were stronger, and he focus all of his attention on his ward. "I didn't come by to see them," he said in a calm, non-threatening tone. "I actually came to see you."

The child's eyes seemed to light up in surprise. "Really? You came to see me?" Then Gosalyn tilted her head and she stared at him wonderingly. "And who are you? You kind of look familiar."

"I knew Lord Negaduck," Drake stated, having no intention of revealing his identity to her. "You could say that he and I were good friends."

"You knew Lord Negaduck?" Gosalyn gasped excitedly. She eagerly took Drake by the hand and led him over to the couch. Completely enthralled by this new information, she hopped onto the couch, her expression showing that she was eager for more. "Do you know where he is? Have you seen him? Did he say when he was coming back?"

Drake sat down on the opposite side of the couch, and he set the brown paper bag on the floor next to his webbed feet. He found himself baffled by her questions. Why was she so eager to find out where he was, or if he was returning? After all, Negaduck had always treated her like a slave, a pest, and took the time to remind her that she was a waste of space. Could it be that she actually missed him? After the way he treated her? Images from his nightmares began to come back to him right then, and he was reminded of the purpose of his visit. To rid himself of those haunting nightmares.

"He, uh..." Drake began, searching for the right words to make his story believable. "He's been really busy in the Normalverse, kid. He doesn't know when, or if, he'll be coming back."

Gosalyn's face fell in disappointment, her spirit deluded for the moment. "Oh. I wish he were coming back. I miss him."

Drake could barely believe his ears. Gosalyn did care for him, and missed him, even after the way he had treated. The realization sent a tremor through him, and he felt his throat constricting his breaths. He brought his hand up and rubbed the back of his neck where he could feel his feathers standing on end.

The redhead noticed his sudden discomfort and leaned forward with a concerned frown. "Are you all right, mister?"

"Yeah," Drake quickly responded. He took a moment to swallow the lump in his throat and lifted his eyes to meet hers. "Look, kid. I've come on his behalf. Like I said, he's a busy felon, but he needed to relay a message to you."

"He wanted to tell me something?" Gosalyn reiterated questionably, remaining completely oblivious to the situation. "What did he need to tell me?"

Drake remembered his dreams again. The scenes of him murdering the young girl's parents, scolding her while she stood defenseless, locking her away in the dungeon of her room. All of the cruelness he inflicted upon her played before him like a movie projector. Looking down at his hands clutched together on his knees, he knew he couldn't take it anymore.

"He..." Drake began and already felt himself beginning to choke on his words. He cleared his throat and kept his eyes lowered to his hands. "He's done a lot of things to you, Gosalyn. Things that he shouldn't have done to you. You didn't deserve to be continuously hurt by him."

"But he never laid a hand on me," Gosalyn pointed out.

For some reason, when she came to his defense, in made him gnash his teeth together. It only made this more difficult. "That's not what I mean. The abuse he inflicted on you wasn't physical, kid. All of the things he said to you, all of those things that hurt your feelings? Well...he does regret doing that to you. And the way he treated you? He knows it was wrong, Gos. He told me himself. And..." Drake trailed off, struggling to spit the words out that were choking him. He lifted his eyes to stare at her large green irises. "And he's sorry, Gosalyn. He really wishes he could take it all back."

Gosalyn silently regarded him for a moment. And to his dismay, Drake could see the forgiveness in her sparkling eyes. "I forgive him. I had a feeling deep down that he didn't mean it. I know he's been through a lot, and I know he's not as bad as everyone thinks. And I always forgave him. It's okay," she reassured in a gentle, genuine voice.

But it wasn't the answer he had expected, and Drake shook his head in disgrace. "No, it's not..." he muttered quietly. "It's not."

His blue eyes wandered to the paper bag at his feet and they seemed to flash sinisterly for only an instant. Then he returned his stare back to the unsuspecting, innocent child sitting patiently on the soft cushions of the couch. "I...got something for ya, kid..."

"You brought something? For me?" Gosalyn asked in bewilderment that this stranger was generous to bring her a gift.

"Yeah, just for you..."

Drake picked up the bag and she watched anxiously. He opened it and reached inside. His hand wrapped around the object inside...

Gosalyn's eyes went wide and her little hands came up to her bill. She gasped loudly.

"Oh! Thank you!"

The girl reached out and gingerly took the Quackeypatch doll from his hands and hugged it close to her body as if it were the most precious thing in the world to her. Gosalyn lifted her eyes to him, which were brimmed with tears of gratitude, and then leapt forward to wrap her arms around Drake. At first, he looked a little less than thrilled. Deep inside, the maniacal blood-thirst maniac was fighting to get out of its cell in which the drugs had locked him away. And for an instant, it felt as if he would break free. But Drake let out a deep exhale, and then reluctantly lifted his hands to pat her on the back.

It was a strange sensation. It was almost like a cleansing feeling was sweeping through his body, ridding his veins of the villains poison they had been pumping for many years. In confronting Gosalyn, the one innocent who probably had endured the most torture from the villain, his recently revived conscience had been cleared. Even if he hadn't directly identified his new identity to her, at least now she knew. She knew of the guilt he had beenkept hidden. And he was able to compromise with the overwhelming remorse and take the pain away.

Drake wasn't even aware that he was embracing the child until the quiet was interrupted by an insistent knock on the door. Both his and Gosalyn's head turned, and she climbed out of his arms with a wondering expression.

"I wonder who that could be," she mused aloud.

But before she could hop down from the couch to answer, the door was suddenly kicked in. Gosalyn yelped in surprise as a tall, older mallard in a black suit lunged inside of the house with a Glock aimed directly at the other duck sitting on the couch. Drake's eyes went wide and he jumped to his feet. Upon seeing his son more closely in his new identity, Jake's eyes also widened, but his sparkled in amused malice.

"Well, Drake Mallard. I haven't seen you in a good twenty years," Jake hissed, his words thick with jeering deviousness.

Seeing the gun in the newcomer's hand, Gosalyn gasped and jumped off of the couch to stand worriedly beside Drake. "Who are you? What do you want? Please, put the gun down before someone gets hurt!"

Despite the little girls pleas, Jake kept his focus, and his aim, on the villain. "Step away from the child. You're coming back to the Normalverse with me to face real justice, Negaduck!"

"What...?" Gosalyn gasped in disbelief. She looked up at the mallard standing beside her, now scrutinizing his features more closely. He did look strikingly familiar...And then the realization hit her. "L-Lord Negaduck? Is it really you?" Her voice was a mixture of fear, confusion...and hope. "You said all of those things...?"

Instead of answering her questions, Drake took Gosalyn by the shoulder and pulled her behind him so that he was now standing between her and his murderous father. "You're really going to open fire on an innocent civilian, Agent?" he challenged.

"You're anything but innocent, Negaduck. And to think that you could actually become a citizen is nothing but a false hope," Jake seethed coldly as he took a few cautious steps forward. "You'll never be anything but a heartless scoundrel who feeds off of the pain and suffering of others."

"Just like you," Drake quickly retorted spitefully.

Jake didn't even flinch from Drake's cruel, yet respectfully true accusation. Instead, the comment rolled right off of his back and he tightened his finger around the trigger. "Young lady, come over here with me, away from him. Right now."

"But...But I..."

Gosalyn looked up at Drake, waiting for him to give her another order of his own. She was used to taking orders from Negaduck. Drake stared down at her, then slowly nodded once before looking back toward Jake with a threatening glower. "Go ahead, kid."

She looked hesitant, but Gosalyn obeyed the duck she had seen as the only father-figure she knew, and she slowly crossed the room to stand beside the SHUSH agent. Jake kept his sharp eyes on Drake, a triumphant sneer coming to his bill.

"You know, it's silly to have the city's taxpayers pay for another execution of the public enemy. I don't think they will impressed in the slightest. So I think we'll do the citizens in both universes a favor and just get rid of you right here..." And with a twisted grin, Jake began to squeeze the trigger.

Drake braced himself, prepared to dodge the bullets just like he had done in the past. But Gosalyn acted first. In a swift motion, one of her shiny black shoes shot out and kicked Jake directly in the shin.

"Yeeoww!"

Gosalyn immediately looked apologetic, but her distraction had caused the agent to drop his aim and grab his shin in agony.

"Run!" she urged to Drake.

And Drake took advantage of this distraction. Before Jake could regain himself, he turned and bolted out of the living room, through the kitchen, and out the back door through the garage.

Once the stinging sensation faded from his left leg, Jake let out a loud growl and sprinted out the front door in pursuit.

He ran as fast as his webbed feet could carry him. As a wanted felon, he had been used to fleeing in such haste, but for some reason this time was different. He didn't have the confidence that he was going to escape. His heart was pounding at a rate that threatened to make his chest explode. He constantly looked over his shoulder to see if he was following him, but there was no one.

Drake turned down a small alley, which was of course a clean alley. He leaned forward and placed his palms on the brick wall, panting to catch his breath and calm his pounding heart. He couldn't remember running so hard, not even from Darkwing Duck. And while he struggled to regain his composure, it gave him the opportunity to reflect on what had just happened. His confrontation with Gosalyn. Never in his life had he, the terrifying Negaduck, imagined himself apologizing to anyone, let alone his 9-year-old ward. But then he reminded himself of the pills he was being fed, and justified his actions. He wasn't Negaduck anymore, after all. He was no longer a heartless criminal. He was Drake Mallard again.

He took in a deep breath and exhaled. The pulsing in his legs died away, and Drake felt himself able to continue on his way to the bakery only a block away. He had to get back to the Normalverse before someone discovered him missing.

But as he turned to leave the alley, he was met with a pair of icy green eyes.

"Ahh!" Drake exclaimed and stumbled backward.

"It's not so easy to run anymore, is it Drake?" Jake sneered as he stepped forward to close the distance between them. "You really can't run forever."

Drake continued to back up as Jake continued to advance. His back bumped into the brick wall of the alley, trapping him. He narrowed his blue eyes at his father, remaining defiant and determined not to give up so easily. But there was a flicker of something in his eyes that couldn't escape Jake's attention.

Fear.

"What are you gonna do? Kill me?" Drake challenged. "What will the city think of you blowing away Drake Mallard, a normal citizen? And your reputation couldn't survive the truth about me getting out to the public!"

"You think so?" Jake fired back cooly.

Suddenly he leapt forward, grabbing Drake by the shoulders and pulling him around. Both mallards struggled with one another, and for a moment, it looked as if Drake would escape. But Jake managed to keep the upper hand by pulling his son's arms behind his back and face-planting him into the hard wall. Drake let out a painful grunt as the pain shot through the side of his face and his arms were kept behind him.

"If I reveal this whole secret fiasco of SHUSH, there will be a public outcry demanding a reformation of the organization!" Jake seethed into his ear. "And if I'm the one who brings the notorious Negaduck to justice, I'll be SHUSH's new director, Jacob Mallard won't be able to get work as a veterinarian in Africa, and you will finally die for the last time!"

Drake twisted his bill into an angry snarl. His hands clenched into fists that were eager to slam into the agent's bill. But Jake still held his wrists tight.

"Haven't you learned yet, old man?" Drake hissed in his deep, gravelly voice. "You couldn't kill me when I was eight, you couldn't kill me during these past two years, and you won't be able to kill me now!"

Then Drake suddenly threw his head back and forcefully head-butted Jake directly in his bill. Jake instantly let go and howled in pain as his hands shot up to cradle his throbbing bill. Drake sprinted past him and out of the alley, but the SHUSH agent wouldn't allow him to escape so easily. Pulling his gun out of his pocket, he ran out of the alley after Drake, but was met with a round of gunfire. The bullets shot by his face, and he could feel them brush the tips of his feathers as he barely managed to dodge them all. The ex-con continued to fire his recently acquired revolver in Jake's direction until it was empty, which he then carelessly discarded on the sidewalk.

When Drake had ceased fire, Jake jumped out from his cover in the alley and began to fire his own weapon. But by that time, the mallard was too far away. Jake clenched his free fist and bared his teeth in disappointment. But he silently vowed that the bow would not get away...

In the Normalverse, the door marked 'Private' at the back of the Sugar and Spice 'N Everything Nice Bakery silently opened. Drake quietly backed out of the backroom and secretly closed the door after him. But as he turned around, he found himself staring down the barrels of several guns being held by SHUSH agents. He gasped sharply and pressed his back against the door.

"Nice 'Welcome Back' party, boys..." Drake muttered half-heartedly.

But then Jacob pushed his way through, looking a lot less amused. In fact, he looked like an enraged father who was prepared to discipline his son for taking the family car for a joy ride.

"What were you thinking?" Jacob demanded, cutting right to the chase. "Why did you go back to the Negaverse? Planning on making a smooth getaway? Did you think that we would not follow you? If someone finds out who you are, you'll be back on death row within the hour! Do you want that?"

A couple of the SHUSH agents lowered their guns so they could rush forward and pull Drake's arms behind his back. "No! I had to go take care of something!" he insisted.

Jacob rolled his eyes in disbelief. "Take care of something? You mean take care of someone!"

"No!" Drake argued as he was being held captive. He exhaled deeply, not wanting to be open about his real reason for making a visit to the Negaverse. But thee was no way around it this time. "I had to go see her. I had to set things straight. I needed to...apologize."

His confession made Jacob's accusing glower falter. At first, he didn't believe in what he heard. But Drake's expression was verification enough. Jacob could see in his eyes just how difficult it must have been for the felon. And he could also see the pain that had been leviated from his conscience.

"Sir? What would you like us to do?" one of the other agents asked after a moment.

Jacob looked from the agent, to Drake, and then nodded at the agent. "Take him back to his residence. Watch him until I get there."

As the agents led Drake out of the closed bakery, he looked at Jacob, and locked eyes with him. And then the old agent immediately knew. Something else had happened. And it was bound to happen again.


	8. Act of Contrition

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Once again, I apologize for another long wait. Between finals and a whole mess of family visiting for the holidays, this has been a very busy and very stressful time for me. And on that note, I also apologize if anything seems a little...odd toward the end of this chapter. I was pretty drunk when I finished it up...hee. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy!

WARNING! This chapter contained information from my fiction _The Path of Consequence_ and contains spoilers for DarkwingPsycho's fiction _The Sins of the Father_. If you would like to know more, I suggest you read _The Path of Consequence_ or follow the fiction _The Sins of the Father._

DISCLAIMER: Darkwing Duck, Negaduck, Drake, J. Gander Hooter, and Gosalyn are all (c)Disney. Jake Mallard is (c) me. Jacob Mallard, Gail, and Carrie are (c)Amanda Rohrssen and is being used with permission.

**Chapter 8**

"He came back on his own. We didn't even have to go through the portal after him!"

Jacob was fighting to convince Director Hooter that the recent event was devoid of any diabolical thought. And it was proving to be a hard fight. J. Gander sat in his chair inside his office, staring back at his old friend. He appeared to be unconvinced.

"Listen to me, John," Jacob sighed as he stepped forward and leaned over the large wooden desk. "What he did tonight was an act of contrition. An attempt at redemption! Ten weeks ago, he was the most notorious, cold-blooded murderer in the city's history, and now he is practically risking his life to apologize!"

"But he's a murderer, Jacob," J. Gander felt obligated to remind him. "You just said so yourself."

"He was a murderer," Jacob corrected him defensively. "If you put a guard in his room, that is going to influence his behavior. You can't do that!"

J. Gander stared back at him with old, tired eyes. He wanted to believe his old comrade--in the past he'd trusted Jacob with his life. But the director was a slave to the rulebook and procedure. And the uneasy feeling about this whole experiment would not leave him alone. "If anything happens, we are responsible. It would be one more stain that SHUSH does not need right now." He paused so he could let out an exhale, and then eyed his friend warningly. "I will give you one last chance with him. Otherwise, I will assign you to one of the other test subjects."

That was all Jacob needed to hear. That was all he wanted from the director. With an accepting nod, he turned and began to leave. But before he could get to the door, a thought came to him, and Jacob turned back around with a concerned frown on his face.

"John? Is there something I should know about the other test subjects?"

J. Gander gave him a grim look. "Jacob, you know I cannot give you that information. It could jeopardize the way you treat your own test subject."

"Yes, but I heard from one of the post-docs that some of the other subjects have died from liver failure." Jacob eyed Director hooter insistently. Pleadingly. "If that is the case then I really should know."

The old goose still remained reluctant to give the full details, and he picked up Negaduck's patient file from the corner of his desk. "Has your patient shown any signs of liver failure?"

"No, he has not."

"It says here that the only side effects he has experienced are nausea, dry mouth, insomnia, and an increasing level of remorse. But no signs of potentially fatal side effects" J. Gander stated as he read from the file in front of him. He lifted his eyes and looked at Jacob suggestively. "Perhaps you should stop listening to post-docs and start trusting your own level of expertise."

"Wow, that must have been some hit," Darkwing observed with both fascination and admiration.

Jake was closely examining his reflection in the mirror, particularly the left corner of his bill which had been snapped out of place during his altercation with Negaduck in the Negaverse. Upon his return to SHUSH, he had summoned the cape crime fighter to inform him of the recent events. And even though Darkwing was amazed that his diabolical double was still alive and on the loose, the elder mallard was less than impressed. In fact, he was downright annoyed by the recent outcome. Negaduck had gotten away, and Jake had gotten a busted bill.

But both things the SHUSH agent intended to rectify, the first being his vanity. Jake gripped the end of his bill tightly between his fingers. He inhaled a deep breath, squeezed his eyes shut, and--

SNAP!

The howl of pain could be heard on the opposite side of the facility. Even Darkwing involuntarily flinched. "That must've hurt..." the hero groaned.

Jake muttered a run-on sentence of curse words as he chased away the tears that had sprung to his eyes and rubbed at his pounding bill which was now set back in its rightful shape. He stormed behind his desk and sank down into the soft leather of his chair.

"He is being used as a test subject in an experiment headed by Jacob Mallard," Jake hissed through his teeth as the final ounces of pain began to ebb away from his nose. "Some sort of behavioral modification drug trial. He's only one of many test subjects, but he's the star attraction. Even Director Hooter has given his consent on the experiment and taking the precautions to keep Negaduck's status unknown to the public."

Darkwing's blue eyes narrowed, as they usually did when the name of his father was brought up. "So it really was true. My felon-assisting father is responsible for that villain still living! Why would J. Gander consent to such an inconceivable idea??"

"They go way back, J. Gander and Jacob," Jake reminded bitterly. He pulled out an icepack and held it to his wounded bill while they conversed. "And he must have faith in this experiment, no matter how ridiculous it may be. I think the friendship J. Gander has with Jacob has clouded his judgment. It was pure luck that I managed to follow Negaduck to the Negaverse and found him before he could have hurt Gosalyn."

The color was instantly drained from Darkwing's face. Gosalyn--Negaduck's ward. He still remembered when he had met that young girl, and couldn't comprehend how such an innocent little angel had come under the iron fist of such a blood-thirsty psychopath. When he had left the Negaverse, and Gosalyn, in the hands of he Friendly Four, Darkwing was convinced that both the city and the girl had been left in safe hands. And now hearing that Negaduck had returned to his homeworld and had come dangerously close to harming Gosalyn, the hero began to feel his blood begin to boil beneath his feathers. As far as he was concerned, Gosalyn in the Negaverse was his daughter just as much as his own Gosalyn.

"You're right. There's no telling what that law-breaking lunatic would have done to Gosalyn if you hadn't shown up," Darkwing acknowledged distantly, trying to chase away the thoughts of what could have happened.

There was a long moment of silence, and Darkwing appeared to be in a reflective state of mind. Jake observed him curiously, knowing what kind of thoughts his lies were instilling in the hero who was so easily manipulated by his masked deviousness. Then, quite suddenly, the vigilante jumped to his feet from where he had been sitting in front of the desk.

"We've got to catch that conniving criminal before this 'experiment' gets out of hand," Darkwing declared firmly. "The idea that Negaduck can be reformed is as outrageous as an honest politician! What if we confront J. Gander about what happened in the Negaverse?"

Jake shook his head. "We're not even supposed to know about this experiment. If we do that, I can be reprimanded for infringement of top secret classified information." There was a short pause. "The only way around this red tape is to catch Negaduck in the act with witnesses--proof that his reformation is a loss cause and that he is still a danger to society."

Darkwing mulled over the idea before slowly nodding. "And knowing Negaduck, we won't have to wait very long."

"Exactly." Jake rose out of his chair, still holding the icepack to his bill as he approached Darkwing. He looked down at the young crime fighter who had put so much trust and admiration in him, and Jake gave him a sincere expression as he set his hand on his shoulder. "Be vigilante, Drake. He's out there, so keep a sharp eye."

Darkwing stood up in a proud stature upon hearing his mentor address him by his real name. It made him feel that father-son connection, and it made him determined not to let the old agent down. "When that sneak snake-in-the-grass strikes, we'll be there to catch him, or my name isn't Darkwing Duck!"

Jake smiled, the wickedness invisible. Little did Darkwing know that the real snake was standing right in front of him.

It was 7:30 in the evening, and by now most of the city's citizens were home with their families. Not many were out, and there was a chilling fall breeze sweeping through the streets. Drake, formerly known as Negaduck, was one of the few that roamed the sidewalks. His webbed feet padded on the concrete, his head was tilted toward the ground, and his hands were shoved into the pockets of the brown jacket he wore. Periodically his eyes would glower at the metallic bracelet locked around his ankle, reminding him that he was being tracked like an animal.

Yes, Drake knew their game by now. He lifted his head and looked behind himself, glaring hatefully at the ominous van parked not far down the street.

The two SHUSH agents sitting in the front seats of the van jerked their heads back and blinked. "He's stayed sharp, that's for sure," one of the muttered to the other.

Drake growled and shook his head as he looked forward again and continued on his way tot he shabby apartment he was forced to reside in for the time being. He was beginning to wonder if this whole experience was worth the sacrifices he made from being the public enemy. But surely they wouldn't keep him stuck in one place for long. Eventually, they would have to let him go. They would have to free him, and he could leave the life of a prisoner behind him. Maybe even live the normal life he had been denied in the past...

Before he could become too entrenched in his thoughts, Drake heard the sound of a car slowing to a stop behind him. When he turned his head, a yellow Jaguar pulled up alongside the sidewalk and the tinted window rolled down.

"Hey. Get in, I'll give you a ride home," the familiar voice called from inside the sports car.

Drake tilted his head skeptically, but ultimately shrugged and stepped over to the car. When he was settled into the leather seat and closed the door, he looked over to see Jacob's warm, greeting smile. "Out for a stroll?" he asked as the car rolled forward.

"Yeah. Just needed to clear my head, you know? After everything that's happened," Drake rumbled deeply. He hesitated before asking with a sense of caution, "How did things go with old Hooter?"

"Well, he certainly wasn't very happy," Jacob replied, turning his head long enough to give him a knowing look. "I managed to smooth things out with him, but it wasn't easy. Just...be a bit more careful, alright? Next time, at least let me know if no one else."

Drake nodded rather than give a verbal response, but that was good enough for Jacob. Several seconds of awkward silence went by, and Drake took in the inside of the vehicle. "This is a pretty smooth ride, old man."

Jacob smirked smugly in the dark interior of the car. "I had always wanted one in my younger cadet years. I knew it would serve as the perfect 'babe magnet.' But things changed," he explained, flashing him a small smile. "I didn't get around to finally getting it until recently."

The younger passed him a devious smile of his own. "Is it still serving its purpose, old timer?"

Jacob shook his head and even gave a light laugh. Even Drake allowed himself a smirk as he stared across the cabin of the car at the old mallard behind the wheel. Constantly he was forced to remind himself who this duck really was--that he was not his father, but the more virtuous double of his real father. At first, he had a hard time convincing himself that Jacob was not out to get him, that he was not out to capture him to use as an egotistical trophy. That was something Jake would do. And as time passed and the experiment continued, Drake felt himself letting down his defenses a little at a time, replacing it with the tiniest bit of trust. Perhaps at some point in the near future, he could put all of his trust in this man who knew so much about him.

Yet, it raised an important fact about the relationship between the two of them. Jacob knew everything there was to know about the ex-public enemy, but it wasn't a two-way street. Drake knew from the time of their first confrontation at the morgue that the old mallard was masking a life that was just as intriguing and tragic of his own.

The only sound was the low, quiet humming of the car's engine. There was nowhere for either of them to go. Drake saw it as the perfect opportunity to get the answers to some questions of his own.

"So what happened to them?"

Jacob turned his head and gave him a questionable stare. "Who?"

"Your family," Drake answered nonchalantly, playing the question as if it weren't a sensitive subject. "What happened to bring you here and turn that son of yours into the disillusioned do-gooder he is now?"

The agent hesitated, feeling his defenses begin to rise. It was indeed a sensitive subject, one which he did not discuss with anyone, nor did he plan do. "That's really none of your business, Drake," he answered sternly.

Drake scoffed cynically with a roll of his eyes. "Of course. I see how it is. You can know everything about me but I can know nothing about you. I get it."

"No. If I tell you about myself, it could compromise the way in which I treat you compared to the other test subjects. I don't want to jeopardize your treatment," he insisted pointedly in a less hostile tone.

But the technicalities the experiment was only part of the reason, and as Drake stared at him with a scrutinizing gaze, he was able to see right through the veteran agent's defensive exterior.

"You think I don't have a clue, old man?" Drake growled bitterly in his deep voice. "I know fear and pain. I've seen a lot of it--I've smelled it on each and every one of my victims. And I've experienced it myself. You know that, thanks to this experiment of yours. Because I'm so familiar with pain and fear, I can see it in everyone. And I see it in you...especially the pain."

Jacob felt his fingers tighten around the leather steering wheel, and his palms began to sweat. He suddenly felt unnerved by the duck in the seat next to him. In all of his life, Jacob Mallard had always been a difficult man to read, especially in regards to his private emotions and experiences which he carefully kept hidden deep within his psyche. This is what made him such a mystery to everyone else--no one knew anything about him, nor would they have guessed he had been a victim of tragedy.

But Drake had just read him like an open book. Jacob couldn't even bring himself to look at him, and instead kept his gaze on the road in front of him.

Still, Drake could sense the discomfort emanating from him. With a grunt, he slouched down in his seat and stared forward with an indifferent stare. "Alright. Never mind. After all, I of all people would understand that it's a touchy subject, right?" he said defeatedly, expecting Jacob to hold fast to his defiant attitude. Then he added in a low mutter, "Besides, it's not as if you went insane and murdered your family."

"No," came a subtle reply.

Drake turned his head with a raised brow, surprised he had received an answer. "No?"

"No. My daughter was killed in an accident and my wife committed suicide."

There was silence. A very long, very awkward silence. Jacob's words were so flat and so void of emotion, but it was a red flag to the emotional turmoil he had felt in the past, and that he was still feeling.

After staring at Jacob for a long moment, Drake shook his head apologetically and redirected his gaze to the windshield. "Sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

Jacob shrugged, determined to sweep away the situation like sweeping away a pile of dust under the rug. "Well, it is something I constantly blame myself for ever since it happened many years ago. I should have been there to prevent it. If I hadn't been kept away against my will, they would still be alive." He had no idea the younger mallard was listening so intently, and he continued. "I was called out to an isolated field mission, which turned out to be a trap, set by a man who was determined to destroy my life just as he destroyed his own. He would later become my eternal enemy."

Drake's eyes narrowed darkly as the realization hit him. "Jake..."

Instead of affirming, Jacob continued. "He thought he had left me for dead. Before he shot me a final time, he threatened to kill my family if I ever set foot near them again." His mouth went dry, and he could feel his tongue cleaving to the roof of his mouth as he tried to dislodge the memories from his throat that he was choking on. "To protect them I had to make them, and the rest of the city, believe that I was dead. I couldn't make my presence known to anyone. As hard as it was, I managed to do so for many years. But it eventually backfired. My daughter turned to reckless teenage attributes while my wife slipped into a depressed, comatose state. Eventually, Carrie's recklessness ended her life and Gail took her own. Drake...My son was left to grow up on his own without any guidance and never knowing what came of his father. That is, until, another certain mallard came into his life and gave him a tainted story as to why I disappeared from his life..." his words trailed off into a deep growl, recalling that it was Jake who had implanted the story into Darkwing's head that Jacob disappeared on his own selfish recognance.

Drake watched him and waited patiently should he continue with his tragic story. And while Jacob had been reciting his life situation, he hadn't given him more than a quick glance and made it a point to avoid eye contact. To avoid any sign of vulnerability and weakening his position of authority.

Then Drake snorted disdainfully through his nostrils. "It sounds as if we were both victims of that lying liar's ways."

"That may be so, and although we've both faced our own tragedies at his hands, I know I can't begin to feel what you went through," Jacob said in a rare sincerity and took his eyes off of the road long enough to look at Drake. His pupils glistened from the lights of the streetlamps and buildings as they passed and there was a gentle expression on his old, worn face. "Perhaps if he had been on this drug all those years ago we would have both been spared the hardships."

Drake caught his eyes for an instant before Jacob returned his gaze forward. "You can drop me off right up here. I'll walk the rest of the way."

"Alright."

The Jaguar rolled to a stop alongside the curb and Drake pushed the door open. "Thanks for the ride."

Jacob nodded with a small smile. "Sure, no problem."

Drake began to climb out of the car, but then he stopped and looked back with a wry grin. "I have a job interview tomorrow. At the local Harley Duckinson shop."

"No kidding?" Jacob asked with a curious tilt of his head. A felt a small surge of success rise up inside of him. "That's great."

Drake nodded, but then looked thoughtful for a moment before he ventured into an important question. "Look, old man, about this thing on my ankle..."

He didn't even have to finish before Jacob shook his head with a chuckle. "Sorry, but it stays where it is."

"Oh, come on! I'm not going to run!" Drake protested rather childishly. "I have no reason to! I like the way things are right now, I like where I am. I swear!"

"And I believe you, Drake. But I've got rules to follow, too," the agent reminded him. His voice was gentle, almost fatherly, letting the young mallard know that there was nothing personal in the decision.

For a moment, Drake frowned in disappointment. But then he sighed in defeat and reluctantly nodded. "Alright, sure." He began to climb out of the car, but stopped again. He turned to him again. "Can I borrow the car?" Then he smiled deviously, jokingly.

Jacob laughed and gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Good luck, Drake."

He got out of the car and closed the door behind him. In seconds, the car pulled away and continued on its way down the street. Drake watched it until it disappeared around the corner and then trudged down the sidewalk in the direction of his third-rate apartment. But the walk gave him time to reflect once more on his situation, particularly on what he had just said to Jacob in the car. He said he was happy where he was--that he liked the way things were going right now. But how much truth was there in that statement? Was this really better than terrorizing the populace, stealing riches, and inflicting torment through the use of extreme, tyrannical power? As Negaduck, he was someone. H e was someone everyone knew and feared. He had a reputation, and just his name alone was enough to give badly behaved children nightmares.

But Negaduck was also another person--someone whom no one had seen. He was a duck masking his own fears and pain by bringing it out of others. Hidden beneath the dark abyss of the black mask he wore was a wounded mallard, unable to cope with his own demons. Buried inside was the mallard he had fought so long to keep hidden from the rest of the world. And himself.

This experiment was bringing out that mallard again. But it was also providing Drake with the opportunity to start over--to give the name he was born with a new identity, a new beginning. And while it was proving to be a difficult transition, he was never one to deny himself a challenge, villain or not. And he had to admit that it was a welcome change to not have to constantly glance over his shoulder in search of the police or Darkwing Duck.

And the mere fact that he was pulling the wool over his do-gooder double's eyes was reason enough for Drake to smile. Perhaps this new life wouldn't be so bad. He was beginning to mull over the positives to come, he passed by an alley, and was suddenly pounced from the side. A black gloved hand clamped over his bill, and Drake instantly began to pull up a ferocious fight. He snarled viciously, as the shadowy figure dressed in black began to drag him into a more secluded area beside the shabby apartment building.

But inside the apartment building, Agent Terry was inside SHUSH's surveillance rooms on his watch shift, sitting in front of the security cameras that viewed the surrounding areas of the building. He was about to take a sip from his coffee mug when one of the screens switched to an angle facing the mouth of the alley. He did a double take when he saw Drake being jumped and forcefully being pulled away. Quickly, the agent jumped to his feet and darted out of the room.

Drake growled and used his fingers to claw at the black sleeves of his aggressor. There was a black ski mask covering the man's entire face, making it impossible to determine his identity. Finally, Drake managed to pull his bill free and roared defiantly. "Let me go, you ill-fated idiot! I'm gonna rip your arm off and beat you over the head with it!"

"Hey!"

Both Drake and his captor turned their heads to see Agent Terry appear outside the alley with his gun drawn. "Put your hands in the air!"

It looked as if the mysterious man was about to comply with the demand as he let go of Drake with one hand. But this was only so he could reached toward the pocket of his black coat. In a quick motion, he raised a gun in his hand.

BLAM!!

Drake's eyes went wide as he saw the SHUSH agent flail backward. His body hit the hard sidewalk and the gun skidded across the pavement from his unmoving fingers. A shocked gasp escaped Drake's throat and his blue eyes were wide with disbelief. But before he could utter a word, the blunt end of the gun's handle came down on the back of his head. His eyes snapped shut, and everything went dark as his body went lax in the other man's arm.

The dark clothed man gingerly set the unconscious ex-con down on the ground. His eerie colored eyes immediately fell upon the electronic monitoring bracelet around Drake's ankle, and then he reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a plier-like cutting device. With it, he effortlessly snipped the metal ring and watched it clink to the hard ground. Then he scooped up Drake's body in his arms and discretely made his leave before people flocked to the dead body of the dead agent on the sidewalk.


	9. Termination

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**: You can expect an apology at the beginning of every update from now on for my lack of updates. In addition, I'm sorry for a short, kind of boring chapter here. Spring semester has started, so I won't have much time to work on this story for the next few months. But I wanted to get at least one more update in case I don't have the time later. So try to enjoy, and I promise that the next chapter will be MUCH more thrilling.

**DISCLAIMER: **Of course, Darkwing Duck, J. Gander Hooter, SHUSH, and Negaduck are all ©Disney. Jacob Mallard is ©Amanda Rohrssen. Jake Mallard is ©me.

**Chapter 9**

"We found this ditched in the dumpster in the alley."

Jacob reluctantly turned his head away from the window to see the cut tracking bracelet in the agent's hand. He, J. Gander, and the rest of the experiment's security staff were all gathered in Drake's abandoned apartment. And there was no sign of the ex-con anywhere.

"Jacob?" came J. Gander's voice.

Jacob looked up, then shook his head and looked down at the floor again. He couldn't believe it was happening. After everything had bee going so well, he had truly believed that Negaduck had made a complete turn-around--that his experiment had been a success. The old agent sighed and leaned heavily on his came. "I just can't believe that he could--"

"Don't you see how he has played you??" one of the agents interrupted, who had always been skeptical from the beginning. "He's a confirmed psychopath. He could fool a lie detector! And he fooled you. What made you think that he couldn't?"

His hollow black eyes gave an empty stare as he replied in defeat. "I don't know."

"What more evidence do you need, Jacob?" J. Gander jumped in even as the agents continued to sweep the apartment. "Witnesses saw him disappear into the alley and then heard the gunshots. Even the surveillance tape has been taken from the monitors down the hall."

"He's trying to cover his tracks," the lead security agent pointed out arrogantly. "But we've gotten statements from the witnesses who saw which way he fled. He won't get far. We have authorization to terminate."

Jacob's head instantly perked up, and he pivoted around on his good leg with a surprised yet puzzled stare. "What?"

"You know the protocol, Jacob," J. Gander answered firmly. He began to pace back and forth in distress, his arms folded behind his back and his gaze lowered to the floor. "When a subject commits a violent offense during Phase 2 of the experiment, we have no choice but to terminate the experiment...and the subject."

Jacob stared, his jaw agape in response to what he was hearing. Of course he knew the protocol, but he still felt that Drake was innocent. "I can't believe this...There is bno soli proof that he has made any violation and you can justify hunting him down??"

The security agent scoffed. "You're damn right, it does."

At that moment, Jacob wanted to take his cane and shove it down the agent's throat. But Director Hooter interrupted before the thought could be put into action. "We'll perform an autopsy once he's brought in to determine what happened with the drugs."

"John, please--"

"I knew this would be a bad idea," the old gander sighed. He stressfully shook his head with a forlorn frown. "This experiment was a disaster from the beginning."

Jacob passed him a scrutinizing glare. "That is strange, John. Because when I came to you with this proposal a year ago, I had your full support."

"I gave you my full support because you assured me that you would have everything under control. Do not undermine my judgment, Jacob!" J. Gander snapped defensively. When his authority was questioned, his temper would come out of his calm, professional exterior. He took in a deep breath, calming himself, and then looked up at his friend with disappointed eyes. "I trusted your judgment, Jacob. I believed that you knew what you were doing when you decided to experiment on one of the world's most dangerous criminals."

Jacob stared back at him with firm, unmoving black eyes. But his fingers curled tightly over the crescent handle of his cane. J. Gander's statements made him feel as if he had failed--failed at something he had put so much of his time and effort into. Something that he truly believed would be a success. And J. Gander's words were beginning to make him believe that perhaps he really did fail--something which was not in Jacob Mallard's nature.

Director Hooter heaved his shoulders and started in a slow stride toward the door. "I must get back to headquarters. More agents will have to be sent out before Negaduck strikes again."

But Jacob was not about to give in so easy. "John, wait--"

But a cloud of blue smoke suddenly billowed in the center of the room, blocking his path.

"I am the terror that flaps in the night! I am the speed bump in the getaway road of crime!" The smoke cleared to revealed the purple masked vigilante, who took a dramatic pose. "I am Darkwiiiiiing Duck!"

None of the other SHUSH agents seemed to noticed the hero's appearance, or they just did not care. Jacob looked worried, but J. Gander looked relieved.

"Ah, Darkwing Duck. I was going to send a Flashquack for your assistance once I returned to SHUSH," J. Gander said, momentarily putting off his exit to approach him.

"Yep, yep, yep. Whenever your agents fail to perform, you know you can only depend on my, J. Gander," Darkwing said smugly. It was then that he met the eyes of Jacob--his estranged father. Other than these types of chance confrontations through SHUSH business, the two of them never communicated. "Hello, Agent Mallard."

"Darkwing," Jacob responded rigidly.

There was a short, awkward silence. "Soooo, tell me what crisis is upon you this time, J. Gander."

"Darkwing, this is a crisis of the utmost importance and reason for great concern. This is not something I am proud to report, but one of our agents has been murdered by a dangerous felon. By...Negaduck."

The caped crime fighter feigned his surprise with a loud gasp. He didn't want it known that Jake had informed him of the villain's survival from execution. "What?? That nefarious Negaduck?? He's supposed to be dead!"

"It is a long story. Not one I would like to explain in detail right now. In short, a scientific experiment has gone terribly wrong and its failure resulted in that maniacal murderer being let loose on the city once again," J. Gander explained hurriedly. "Now I am sending my best men out in pursuit of that madman, but I would feel more confident if you were also on the case. You are more familiar with Negaduck and his motives than anyone else."

"You can count on me, J. Gander!" Darkwing announced in his dramatic tenor. "That trigger-happy hooligan may have escaped death once, but he certainly won't escape the wrath of Darkwiiiing Duck!"

"Excellent, Darkwing," J. Gander said, already feeling more relieved although his stoic face would never make it known. "You can report to myself or Agent Jake Mallard. He is also on this case as we speak."

With that said, the authoritative gander made his leave out of the apartment door with the other agents in tow. Only Jacob and Darkwing were left in the room, which was just what the hero wanted. Jacob, on the other hand, was filled with discomfort the minute those accusing blue eyes were on him.

"I'm sure we can handle this just fine without your assistance, Darkwing," Jacob rumbled lowly, eager to remove himself from this suddenly uncomfortable situation.

But Darkwing scoffed. He was not about to let what had happened slide. He still held a strong grudge toward his father, whom he was convinced abandoned him as a child. And now he stared back at the mallard who was his father by blood only with angry, disappointed eyes. "Some prestigious SHUSH agent. Who'da thought that the 'honorable' Agent Jacob Mallard would stoop so low as to allow the Public Enemy #1 to escape execution and roam free to terrorize the innocent."

"Now is not the time for foolish assumptions, boy," Jacob retorted sharply. He was still burning from his unsuccessful talk with J. Gander. "Especially when you do not know any of the facts aside from the ones Jake Mallard has given you."

"Agent Mallard wasn't the one who rescued a murderous psychopath from a much deserved death penalty. Perhaps you should focus your good intentions on those more deserving, such as those who do not have mugshots!"

There was a sharp thunk that echoed through the small apartment as Jacob's cane forcefully came down on the worn wooden floor. His hollow black eyes stared back at his son, unfeeling and cold. But instead of erupting into an aggressive tirade of shouts, his voice remained even and firm as he spoke. "You listen to me, Drake. Whether you choose to take anything from these words is your prerogative, but you're going to hear me out." He took a few uneven steps forward and stared down at him. "I am starting to believe that there is nothing I can to or say that will repair your trust in me. We can both have your surrogate father Jake to thank for that. And once again, he is playing the puppetmaster and you are one of his marionettes among countless others. He is playing you as the perfect role in his tragedy."

"Oh yeah?" Darkwing challenged stubbornly. He folded his arms over his chest, remaining unconvinced. "And why, pray tell, would he do that? Hmm??"

"You are a master of deduction, yet you fail to yield to the simplest answers," Jacob sneered in return, in no mood for the masked mallard's cynicism. "Jake hates me, and he despises his son. He knows that if he doesn't get rid of Negaduck, it will be vice-versa. He is such a coward that he would rather annihilate his own son."

"Oh, I see. So that justifies you freeing Negaduck from prison so he can kill Jake first, am I right?"

Even though it wasn't such a far-fetched thought, Jacob was quickly growing tired of this argument which he knew would not go anywhere. Besides, he had to find Negaduck before SHUSH, or worse, Jake found him. "Never you mind, boy. This is a SHUSH affair which is really none of your concern."

"Pah! That is my diabolical double out there on the rampage. And you heard J. Gander. SHUSH needs me to bring him back in," Darkwing reminded him with an arrogant smile on his long bill. He turned with a flourish of his purple cape and began to strut away. But he stopped just in front of the door, and turned his head to look back at his father. "And when I catch that heinous hooligan, I'm not going to take my eyes off of him until his body is cold and in the ground."

There was a short pause, and Darkwing's blue eyes drilled into Jacob's ebony irises. Then the younger mallard hissed in a spiteful voice filled with regret. "I wish you really were KIA. At least then I'd still have the memories of you being a hero, however untrue they were. I'd rather my father be dead than be a corrupt agent who works with criminals."

Darkwing turned his back, and made a swift exit out the door. He was too consumed in his anger to even make a dramatic trademark exit. Jacob was left in the apartment, and for a long moment, he just stood there, listening to the silence. What if everyone else was right? What if Negaduck really did have a violent relapse? Of course it was a possibility, Jacob knew that. But he couldn't stand the thought of being wrong. Then he turned and slowly trudged over to the window to brood to himself. He set his cane against the wall, and leaned forward with his palms on the dusty windowsill. Darkwing's words has stabbed him through his heart, which had already been beaten and bruised over the past two decades. His statements were so hurtful, that not even Jacob's wit could come up with a retort. He had lost his wife and his daughter to cruel fate--the death card which Jake had laid out for them. Upon discovering that his son had survived, Jacob had hoped for nothing more than to reconcile with Darkwing and re-establish their relationship. But Jake had taken that from him, too. He had taken everything from him.

Well, almost everything. Even though Jacob had lost his birthright son, he had gained something else over the past several weeks. The relationship Jacob had formed with Negaduck during the experiment seemed to fill a bit of the dark void that existed inside of his wounded heart. He felt a certain responsibility for the reformed criminal beyond the realm of science. Just recalling the progress of the experiment and the conversations the two of them had shared put the faintest smile on the old mallard's bill. It was almost as if Negaduck wasn't Jake's son, but--

Jacob shook his head clear, and his aged face once again took on its determined glare. There was no time for soft thoughts. He knew he had to find Negaduck before Jake or Darkwing Duck. Before he could be terminated.


	10. Relapse

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** This was originally going to be a longer chapter, but I decided to divide it up into two so that you all may have something to hold you over until my next update, which I am not sure when it will be. But I'm excited for the next chapter, so hopefully it won't be too long of a wait.

**DISCLAIMER:** Negaduck, J. Gander, SHUSH, etc. are all ©Disney. Jake Mallard is ©me. And Jacob Mallard is ©Amanda Rohrssen. Go read her awesome fictions, right now. Well, maybe once you're done with this chapter.

**CHAPTER 10**

The merciless pounding in his head is what brought him back into consciousness. Immediately he wished he had been knocked out again; the headache from the blow he received felt like someone holding a jackhammer to the back of his skull. Drake groaned, and struggled to pull his eyes open. He was on the ground with the cold, hard concrete pressing against the side of his face.

"Well, well. The prodigal son awakens."

The gravelly voice instantly jarred Drake back into reality, and he recalled what had happened before he was struck n the back of the head in the alley. His eyes snapped open, and he blinked furiously to clear his blurry vision. Just hearing his voice made the young mallard's teeth gnash together.

"What a relief. I was afraid I had killed you."

"I wouldn't want to give you the pleasure," Drake seethed hatefully. He hissed in pain as he pulled himself to his knees, and he put a hand to his forehead in a vain attempt to cease the throbbing. And when he lifted his eyes, he was met with the icy green irises of Jake Mallard.

Jake folded his arms across his chest, and tsked his tongue with a shake of his head. "Look at you. I never thought I'd see the day when Drake Mallard would be resurrected from the ashes of the public enemy."

"I'm surprised you even remember who Drake Mallard is, you scum-sucking snake-in-the-grass." Drake slowly rose to his feet, swaying a couple of times until he managed to find his balance. They were in some sort of old furniture warehouse, and the dark air was musty and stale with dust. And it was only the two of them there; Jake had brought no reinforcements. He turned to face his father defiantly, no longer showing even an ounce of fear.

For a long moment, the two mallards stared through one another, neither yielding to the other. They knew what the other was thinking. They both knew they wanted to kill one another at that very moment. Drake could find no sign of the man whom he had once proudly called his father--the once successful businessman who cherished his family and was respected by everyone who knew his name. Now there was nothing but the hollow stare of a cold-hearted man who had lost everything of true value, and the only way he could fill that void was by living a life of vile deceit and wickedness.

It was Drake who spoke first. "Well?" he snorted bitterly. "What are you waiting for? You'd better finish me off before someone else steals your thunder. We all know what kind of damage that would do to your ego."

"Bite your tongue, boy," Jake threatened lowly, shoving his face into his threateningly. "That may very well be the case all in due time. Every police officer and SHUSH agent in the city is searching for you even as we speak. For murdering Agent Terry."

"Well, they'll be in for quite a surprise when they discover it was one of their own men, won't they?" he retorted in a snide sneer.

But the SHUSH agent raised one of his bushy eyebrows. "Oh? Really?" He chuckled, sounding more amused than worried, and he calmly began to circle him. "Do you honestly think that they are going to take your word over mine, 'Negaduck'?"

But the ex-con remained defiant. "They had that place rigged with surveillance. They've got every move you made on tape, including you shooting Agent Terry!"

"You mean this tape?"

Jake held up the black VHS tape he had pilfered from the surveillance room. He smiled when he could see the disappointed frown on Drake's face, and then he smashed the tape in half over his knee. The evidence shattered into pieces, and he crumpled and ripped the vinyl ribbon until it was beyond repair. He smirked and tossed the tape's remnants carelessly over his shoulders.

"Don't look so worried, Drake. Perhaps my morose double Jacob will believe your story, considering he's established such a strong fatherly bond with you."

"He's been more fatherly than you." The bitter words came out of Drake's bill before he could think to stop himself from saying them. Even he didn't know if he had said them in quick defense, or if they were the truth.

"Such a vile temper, Drake. I thought Jacob's little 'wonder drug' would have addressed that problem," Jake chuckled as he continued to circle around behind him.

But the young mallard's temper was already in the rapid rise. His hands clenched into tight fists, and a low growl rose in his throat. And the way Jake was circling him like a vulture was making him even more unnerved. The once unfaltering public enemy had never felt so trapped and intimidated. "I'll show you a vile temper, you--!"

When Drake spun around, Jake's cold eyes were there waiting for him. "What are you going to do, Drake??" he challenged deviously. Jake even began to advance on him, keeping their faces just inches apart, and Drake was forced to step backward. "What do you plan on doing now, hmm?? Go back to the Negaverse? I'll find you there, and you know it. And now you are the top priority on every frequency within 500 miles. You won't get two blocks before your gunned down."

"Well, consider that challenge accepted," Drake retorted aggressively. He felt his back bump against the wall and he had nowhere else to go.

"Ah, but you forget, Drake," Jake began to remind him, his eyes twinkling with an excited wickedness. "You'll only have to dodge their bullets if you manage to dodge mine..."

He flashed him a demonic grin, which it looked as if Drake had been looking in a mirror. And then, Drake's bill twisted into an angry sneer, right before he swung his right fist through the air at his father's head. But the trained agent had been expecting it. He effortlessly the blow with a forearm and threw Drake to the ground.

"Ahhgh!" Drake grunted painfully as his face was met with the hard floor.

Jake chuckled and straightened the lapels of his suit jacket, standing proudly over the fallen criminal. "What's the matter, Negaduck? That Passidone turn you a bit too docile to violently defend yourself?"

His blue eyes narrowed, becoming more enraged every time Jake spoke a word. He planted his palms firmly on the ground, and once his had pulled air back into his lungs, Drake swung his legs through the air, and Jake was quickly knocked from his feet. And as soon as his back hit the floor, Drake pounced onto him like a savage beast. Immediately his hands went to his throat, mercilessly trying to strangle his senior while keeping him pinned beneath him.

The two mallards growled fiercely while they attempted to gain the upper hand of one another. But even in his mid-fifties, Agent Jake Mallard had strength which defied his age. It didn't take him long to overcome the younger, and in seconds, they had rolled around until Jake now hand his son pinned beneath him.

"Arrgh! Get off of me, you son of a bitch!" Drake snarled ferociously and continued to try and pull himself free.

But Jake only laughed down at him in triumph. "That temper of yours, Drake. Sounds like someone should pop another pill!"

Instead of fighting back with biting words, Drake was able to pull his foot back, and thrust it upward--right into Jake's groin.

"Ohhh!!"

Immediately, Jake rolled off of him and crumpled to the floor. He was groaning in pain as Drake jumped to his feet and searched for anything he could use as a weapon. The only thing he could find was a crowbar leaning against an old crate, and he was quickly rushing forward to grab it in his hands. Drake spun around, clutching it in his hands like a baseball bat and prepared to crush Jake's skull. But instead, he was face with the barrel of a pistol. Jake blindly pulled the trigger, and the bullet hit the crowbar at such close proximity that it flew from Drake's hands. It clanged to the floor several yards away. Drake looked to where it had fallen and then back to Jake, who was still on the floor with his gun pointed up at him. He pulled the trigger again, and this time the bullet whizzed by Drake's head, so close that he could hear it cut through the air.

Drake knew he didn't have a choice at that moment. He turned and sprinted through the dark warehouse in search of an exit. He could hear Jake growl angrily as he rose to his feet, took aim, and fired another shot. Fortunately, Drake had disappeared into the shadows. By that time Jake followed in pursuit, he came upon the opened side-door to the warehouse, and there was no sign of the criminal in the night.

Jake narrowed his eyes. But this was just a minor roadblock which he was determined to get around. He pulled a cell phone from his pocket, dialed a number, and held it to his ear.

"This is Agent Jake Mallard. Put me through to J. Gander, right now..."

He watched from behind the trunk of a large tree until he saw Jake limp back inside the warehouse. Once out of sight, Drake exhaled deeply, taking a moment to gather himself before sprinting off in the direction of a nearby road. He needed a place to hide, he needed some sort of transportation, he needed to change his appearance. No doubt the entire city would be hunting for him. But something Jake had said made him realize something else he needed.

He needed those pills.

Soon, the villain found himself safe within the confines of his favorite sanctuary--an old asylum that had been out of operation for at least a decade. It was ironic how at home he had always felt inside of that hideout. Except for now. Instead, Drake felt himself overcome with anxiety since his confrontation with Jake. And the violent face-off seemed to have awakened his violent tendencies that had been suppressed in the past several weeks. He needed to get his dose of the rage-controlling drugs before he relapsed.

But now the entire city was on the look-out for him. There was no one to accompany him now, thanks to Jake and his lust to kill him. No one...except for one person. Drake lifted his head from where he sat behind the desk which at one time had once belonged to the chief physician of the asylum. He had been deep in thought for nearly an hour, fighting the conflict in his mind. But finally he came to the only resolution available. Reaching into the pocket of the brown jacket he wore, he dug around desperately until he found what he had been looking for. He pulled out a business card with Jacob Mallard's name and private number printed.

Jacob, meanwhile, had been experiencing similar frustration. He had withdrawn to the secluded dwelling of his luxurious manor, hidden away in the outskirts of Saint Canard. He paced restlessly back in forth in front of the ornate fireplace with all of his thoughts on Drake, wondering where he presently was, if SHUSH had caught him, what Jake would do he got to the boy first...

He had even taken it upon himself to drive through the city at least three times in search of the ex-con who was once more on the run from the law, but this time for an act that Jacob had a hard time believing he was responsible for committing. But he had found no sign of him, and deterred for the time being, Jacob had retreated to solitude to think of which path to take next.

It was getting late, nearing ten 'o clock. He had heard no word from SHUSH, and they were making sure that the public enemy's escape would not be publicized. Jacob was just about to give in to the idea of sweeping the city once more for any sign of Drake when there was a shrill trio of rings from the inside pocket of his blazer. Jumping to the conclusion that it was J. Gander calling, Jacob ceased his pacing and answered the phone.

"Yeah?" he answered, sounding irritable.

"Jacob?"

Instantly the old mallard's head perked. "Drake?" Instinctively, Jacob looked around him in search of anyone who may be watching or listening in. "Where the hell are you?"

"I'm at one of my hideouts," came the rushed reply.

"What the hell do you think you're doing??" Jacob heard himself seethe angrily into the phone. "Now you're fleeing the scene of a crime? Drake, you've just jeopardized yourself!"

"I had no choice!" Drake retaliated defensively. "Jake ambushed me and nearly killed me. What else was I supposed to do??"

Jacob scoffed cynically. "Perhaps you should have shot him like you did Agent Terry."

He didn't know why he had made such an accusing statement. He truly believed Drake was innocent. At least, that was what he wanted to believe. There was a long, silent pause on the other end of the phone before Drake spoke again.

"I didn't shoot him. It was Jake. He pulled me into the alley and shot Agent Terry when he saw the commotion. He knocked me out, and when I woke up he was standing over me in an old warehouse. I would have killed him but he had a gun pointed at my head!"

Drake sounded more wounded than angry--wounded that he now had to convince Jacob, the only person he trusted, of his innocence. Now Jacob returned a long moment of silence, taking in everything Drake had said. His words, and the tone of his voice. Even Jacob could sense the ounce of worry in his voice. Why had he thought, even for a minute, that Drake had shot the SHUSH agent? What motive did he have? If he wanted to escape, he could have easily done so, and he certainly wouldn't have felt inclined to phone him in a panic.

But before Jacob could even voice an apology, Drake cut in again, his words coming more quickly now. "I need more Passidone. I think I'm having a relapse here. I need it now. Maybe then you could convince J. Gander that I'm innocent."

"If you had a violent confrontation with Jake, the hatred and emotion could cause your rage to resurface," Jacob agreed, keeping his voice a leveled calm. "And don't worry about J. Gander and SHUSH for the time being. Right now, we need to concentrate on keeping you away from the authorities. Especially Jake. Quick, boy. Get something to write with."

There was a pause, and Jacob could hear shuffling on the other end followed by Drake's voice. "Alright."

"Get to this address: 72 Bayview Road. You'll be safe here."

Even as he wrote down the address, Drake's brows raised curiously, coming to a conclusion. "'Here'?"

Jacob sighed reluctantly. Very few knew of his whereabouts, and he had preferred keeping it that way. But there was no other choice. Drake's life depended on it. "Be inconspicuous, Drake. And be sure that no one follows you."

The two mallards hung up the phone in unison, and Drake leaned forward over the desk, looking at the slip of paper in his hand on which he'd written the address to Jacob's home. For a moment, he contemplated whether he should go or not. What if it were a trap? What if Jacob intended to turn him into SHUSH rather than risk his own tailfeathers in helping him? It was a perfectly plausible thought.

But Drake could smell betrayal a mile away. He had put a lot of trust in Jacob since he saved him from lethal injection, and he had yet been given a reason to question his loyalty.

And should Jacob turn on him? Drake would be ready to defend himself, prepared to fight to the end. But not as Drake. No, Drake Mallard wouldn't do that. He couldn't do that.

He rose to his feet, a determined glower etched on his face. Drake knew exactly what to do. And minutes later, he was standing in front of a full-body mirror, yellow suit covering his torso and a black cape hooked over his shoulders. The red fedora was rightfully fitted onto his head where it belonged. And lastly, he brought the black mask to his face to shadow his blue eyes once again. When he looked back into the mirror, he saw his reflection grinning deviously back at him.

Negaduck was back, and within minutes he was revving his crude motorcycle to life and tearing out into the street in the direction of Saint Canard.


	11. One Won't Give Up

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: I couldn't wait to get this chapter up, so I cracked down and finished it before my workload gets too heavy. Please do enjoy this chapter. And as a request, **_please DO NOT reveal the spoiler at the end of this chapter in any reviews!_** Thank you!

**DISCLAIMER**: Darkwing Duck, Negaduck, J. Gander, and Dr. Bellum are all ©Disney. Jake Mallard is ©me, and Jacob Mallard is ©Amanda Rohrssen

**CHAPTER 11**

The wind whipped through the feathers on his face as he sped through the city streets on the Troublemaker, going over the speed limit by at least twenty miles. It was a feeling he had missed. One of the perks of being the city's public enemy was having no civilian worries--the biggest concern he ever had was concocting his next prison escape. Another upside was seeing the citizens flee at the very sight of him, which was what they were doing even now. Cars swerved to get out of his way, and the late-night strollers ducked behind magazine dispensers. Negaduck laughed wickedly as he watched them flee; he had missed his life as a criminal.

Then again, his short-term experience as a normal, every day civilian also had its positive elements. It had been a nice change of pace, being able to walk down the street without a dozen police officers hot on his tail. He had actually begun to enjoy having non-hostile conversation with other people. Especially with Jacob. It had been a long, long time since he had experienced such a bond with another person, and he felt it would be a loss if everything fell apart at this point.

Even as he continued to speed down the street, not bothering to yield to red lights or pedestrians, Negaduck found himself frowning at the possibility of everything coming to an abrupt end. He was suddenly jarred out of his deep thought when he heard the sound of another motorcycle over the roar of his own engine. When he turned his head to look over his shoulder, he saw the familiar purple coloration of the Ratcatcher closing in on him from behind.

"Cease and desist, Negaduck!" Darkwing shouted while he kept a steady hand on the accelerator. "You may have been able to pull the wool over the rest of the city's eyes, but you won't escape Darkwiiiiing Duck!"

He rolled his eyes. "That's one thing I didn't miss..." Negaduck muttered to himself. With an agitated growl, he revved the engine of his motorcycle and picked up speed just as he tore around the corner.

"Oh no you don't, you maniacal miscreant!" the hero yelled and matched speed to keep up. Tires squealed in protest against the pavement, but Darkwing managed to keep close on his double's tail.

"Damn you, Darkwing Duck!!" Negaduck snarled hatefully upon seeing that his attempt to lose Darkwing was failing.

The ever-resourceful villain continued to tightly grip the Troublemaker's handlebars, and with his other hand he reached beneath the steering panel, searching until his fingertips touched cold steel. With a triumphant grin, Negaduck sat up, now gripping a loaded sleek pistol. He turned another corner down a one-way street, and waited until he heard Darkwing screech around the corner behind him. Negaduck twisted around, raised the gun, and aimed it right between the hero's eyes.

"Yipes!" Darkwing yelped, his eyes going wide from behind the visor of his helmet upon seeing the weapon pointed directly at him.

Negaduck kept his aim steady even as he hit numerous bumps in the road. His finger began to squeeze around the trigger, prepared to put this high-speed chase at a quick end. But just as he was ready to inhale the scent of gun smoke, his finger loosened from around the trigger. It seemed involuntary, and it immediately baffled him. More than anything, it made him downright angry. He turned back around to face the oncoming road, slipped the gun inside his jacket, and let out a frustrated snarl.

Why?? Why couldn't he blow that annoying do-gooder's head off of his shoulders?? It should be so easy!

"Ha! What's the matter, Negaduck?? Your trusty weapon stove-pipe on you??" came Darkwing's taunting voice from over the roaring duet of the motorcycles.

Now the purple-caped mallard retrieved his own notorious weapon: his famous gas gun with a grappling hook loaded into the nozzle. "Let's hope I won't have such a misfire..." he muttered to himself. Then he raised the gas gun in one hand and aimed at the rear of the Troublemaker. "Time to reel you in like the shark that you are, you conniving criminal!"

FOOP!

The gas gun fired the grappling hook. It twisted through the air, having perfect aim at the Troublemaker's backbar. Darkwing smiled smugly in triumph, but perhaps a little too soon. At the last second, Negaduck had turned another sharp left. And unfortunately, the grappling hook caught the post of a streetlight.

"Uh oh..." Darkwing groaned. There was no time to slam on the breaks, and the Ratcatcher continued its pursuit while its driver still grasped the gas gun. The momentum yanked Darkwing back, nearly popping his arm out of its socket. The hero was spun around in a blinding circle, and when everything had stopped moving, he was tied to the light post with the hook's rope.

"Mommy, I want off the merry-go-round..." Darkwing groaned dizzily. He shook his head clear and regained his senses, but only to see the tail lights of the Troublemaker growing dimmer in the distance. "You won't escape, you maniacal mallard!" he shouted while he struggled in vain to free himself.

Negaduck let out a relieved exhale when he saw that Darkwing was no longer behind him. Part of him knew that Darkwing's final words to him were true--they'd find him sooner or later. Unless he got to Jacob, and fast. He reached into his pocket to re-read the address, and then he took a side-street for a short-cut.

"Dr. Bellum, I cannot begin to express the importance of confidentiality in this matter," Jacob urgently spoke into his phone while he paced anxiously in his living room. There was a pause as the excited SHUSH inventor rambled on the other end. "Yes, all of it. I need you to prepare all of the Passidone for me to pick up at the lab in a couple of hours. pause That I cannot say. Just do it."

He gave a stressful sigh as he hung up the phone and slipped it into the pocket of his jacket. He reached over and turned on the antique radio sitting on the bookshelf, and switched the frequency to the local news station.

"...caught in a compromising position with one of his staff in his main office. The mayor was not available for comment," the male news anchor announced through the frequency. "And in more recent news, it was revealed today that Negaduck, the city's former Public Enemy #1 has resurfaced. The masked mallard of menace was supposedly but to death by lethal injection several weeks ago, but has since been spotted by dozens of citizens within the past hour. While this is indeed disturbing news, the local vigilante, Darkwing Duck, has also been seen in pursuit of the villain. We will report to you with further details as they develop."

"Damn it, boy!" Jacob cursed and slammed his hands down on the bookshelf. He exhaled angrily and turned off the radio while he ran his fingers through the feathers on his head. Now it would be a stroke of luck if Negaduck would be able to make it out of the city alive.

A creaking board pulled him out of his morose thoughts. Jacob lifted his head and strained his ears to listen for a repeat of the sound. Another creak. He reached behind a history book on Napoleon and pulled out a .357 revolver. With his black eyes glinting in the firelight, he left his cane against the bookshelf and quietly crept through the dancing shadows. But from around the corner of the entryway, he could see one shadow that swept over the far wall. One that was out of place.

The old SHUSH veteran snarled silently as he pressed his back against the wall, and he pulled back the trigger of the revolver with a quiet 'click.' He could hear the light footsteps of the intruder coming closer. And closer. Still, Jacob obeyed his years of training, and waited patiently for just the right second. And when that moment came, he spun around the corner with a threatening yell and the revolver raised toward his intruder.

"Holy Hades, old man! It's me!"

Jacob's threatening glower fell and his eyes went wide when he came face-to-face with the black masked felon. "Drake?"

Negaduck sneered. "Mind getting that .357 outta my face?"

He looked at the gun in his hand and quickly lowered it. "I didn't think you'd make it, boy. Especially with your 'low profile,'" he pointed out cynically as he led the criminal into the other room.

"Hey, getting through town this way was easier than try to sneak around as a civilian! All of the other citizens stayed out of my way!" Negaduck pointed out defensively as he followed. But his mind quickly returned to the urgent matter at hand. "Look, I need more of those pills. It's wearing off, and if there's any way to salvage any of this and keep me from a second death sentence, I need it fast. I managed to ditch Dipwad Duck for the time being."

"Yes, so I've heard," Jacob muttered as he walked back to the bookshelf to replace his hidden revolver and retrieve his cane. He turned around to face him with a cool, calm demeanor. "I've got the staff gathering up every milligram of Passidone as we speak. We'll stop by to pick it up on our way out of town."

Negaduck raised his brows beneath his black mask questionably, and Jacob remained solemn.

"We need to get you out of the city, Drake. We need to let some time pass so that things may calm down, but until then, it's not safe for you here." Jacob nodded to one of the twin leather easy chairs while he sat in the other across from it. "Sit down. We'll discuss some the possibilities, and where to go from here."

Forty-five minutes went by, and the fire in the fireplace was down to its last few glowing embers. The two mallards had spent the time discussing their options, every one of them which appeared more grim that the previous.

"I should just go back to the Negaverse and lay low for a while," Negaduck mumbled in defeat. "At least I rule there. The only threat I'd face would be Jake."

"Jake is the only threat you should be concerned with," Jacob pointed out. "It doesn't matter if you're here or there. If it weren't for him, none of this would have gone wrong."

They both paused thoughtfully for a long moment. Negaduck shifted his eyes in Jacob's direction, scrutinizing the conflicted expression on his aged face. It was obvious that the old mallard had faced many adventures, had celebrated many triumphs, and suffered many losses. And even though he was a felon, Negaduck could see the anxiety he was going through at that moment, fearful of suffering another loss. But the loss of a potential successful experiment, or the loss of something else?

"Why are you doing this, old man?"

Jacob raised his eyes to meet his questionably. "I beg your pardon?"

Negaduck knew he had heard him, but he repeated himself. "Why are you doing this? Risking your prestigious career for the sake of a mallard who doesn't know how to do anything except commit countless felonies and mindless destruction?" Then he suddenly looked discouraged. "Everyone else is convinced this whole thing has failed."

"Indeed they have. They've given up on the experiment, and they've given up on you," Jacob confirmed. He leaned forward a bit from where he sat in the easy chair with his hands resting atop the crescent handle of his cane, and he stared back at the villain with his hard yet sincere black eyes. There was a spark of determination in them. "I may very well have given up on the experiment as well, Drake. But there's at least one person who won't give up on you."

Negaduck gazed back at him, puzzled, as if he hadn't understood a word h had said. And Jacob only passed him his sly, boyish smile in return

Then there was a loud. insistent knock on the front door that echoed through the house. Both mallards' heads perked up and looked in the direction of the door, and Negaduck quickly jumped up in alert.

"Quick, boy. Hide yourself," Jacob instructed hurriedly, and Negaduck quickly darted off to do just that.

He quietly made his way through the foyer, all the while turning over the possibilities of who it could be. Very few knew where he lived, and he rarely ever had any visitors, but with news of Negaduck's plight could send anyone to his doorstep. The knocking continued, evolving into eventual impatient banging. Jacob stopped in front of the door, and his hand curled tightly around the handle of his cane. He took in a deep breath and stood tall, preparing himself for the worst. He reached for the bronze handle and pulled the door open...

There on his doorstep was J. Gander Hooter, accompanied by half a dozen uniformed agents. And the old SHUSH director did not look happy.

"J. Gander," Jacob greeted casually. He kept cool, as if nothing was amiss. "What's happening? Have you heard anything more about Negaduck?"

To his surprise, J. Gander waltzed passed him with his agents in tow. "Where is he, Jacob?" he asked, seeing right through his act.

"What?"

J. Gander stopped a few steps into the foyer and looked up at him. "Dr. Bellum said you called, and asked her to prepare all of the Passidone for you to pick up from the lab. You should have known better, Jacob. We all know how she likes to run her mouth." Jacob didn't respond, so he continued further into the house. "So where is he? We need to take him in now."

"I don't know," Jacob replied worriedly, hoping that Negaduck had found a place to hide himself. He followed J. Gander while the agents fanned out through the house in search of the mask mallard. "He called about an hour ago. He wouldn't say where he was, only that he needed his pills."

"That was about the time Darkwing was in pursuit of him," the director pointed out, making it clear that he was having a difficult time believing his old compatriot's words. "We must find him now before he kills another innocent person."

"But he didn't kill Agent Terry!" Jacob insisted. His old friend's skepticism was making him more frustrated by the second. "I saw him just before the incident happened. He was fine, and he had no weapon on him. There's no solid proof!" He limped his way in front of J. Gander to confront him with an almost pleading expression. "John, we don't have to kill him. The Passidone is working. All we have to do is get him back on the medication--"

"Passidone doesn't work, Jacob"

Jacob blinked, taken aback by the statement. "No, Passidone works. We just need to--!"

"It doesn't work," J. Gander cut him off again insistently. "All of the subjects who took Passidone are dead. Their liver shut down eight weeks into the experiment."

Still, Jacob looked confused. "But...he's fine," he pointed out. It didn't make any sense.

J. Gander heaved his shoulders and stared up at him regretfully.

"He was on a placebo."


	12. The Effect

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** It's been a while since I've updated, but I'm hoping it will be worth the wait for you all. We are getting closer to the exciting conclusion, and I hope that I can keep your attention in the meantime. There are only a few chapters left to go, and while college is out for the summer, I'm afraid I may still not have much time on my hands. I will be in Virginia this summer working for the FBI in an internship. What exactly will I be doing, you ask? I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you ;) Still, I hope I will have time to finish this story before the end of the summer. Enjoy!

**DISCLAIMER: **Darkwing Duck, Negaduck, J. Gander, and SHUSH are all ©Disney. Jacob Mallard is ©Amanda Rohrssen and Jake Mallard is ©me. No stealie!

**CHAPTER 12**

Jacob could feel his knees buckle under the harsh truth. Still staring at J. Gander in disbelief, he allowed himself to slowly sink down into the cushions of the couch. For a long moment, he couldn't even find the right words to express his pure shock. He looked up at the SHUSH director. "A placebo?"

"Yes," J. Gander nodded, hating to suck the hope out of his old friend's eyes. "He was taking nothing but sugar pills."

Now Jacob's disbelief took a small turn toward anger. "Why didn't anyone tell me this?" he demanded, upset that he hadn't been kept in the loop.

"You and I both know it would have compromised the experiment, Jacob," J. Gander pointed out. "You would have treated your patients differently if you knew. You would have treated him differently."

It was true. He knew it was true because it was a condition he stressed. Still, Jacob found himself having trouble accepting this truth. It didn't seem to add up. A criminal like Negaduck? Capable of reforming himself?

"This just doesn't make sense. It doesn't seem possible..."

The old gander spoke up again with his own scientific words of wisdom. "Never underestimate the power of the placebo effect. You knew there was a 50/50 chance that he would be placed in the control group."

There was another moment of prolonged silence, and J. Gander allowed his friend some time to regain himself. But the director's eyes kept wandering about the large mansion, watching his men, waiting for them to find the fleeing felon hiding in some nook. Then, as Jacob raised his head, his eyes narrowed in a strong, merciless stare. Then he rose to his feet, coming to a resolution.

"I need a drink."

He slid his way past the agents and made his way into the other room where the minibar was located. "Anybody else want a drink??" he called over his shoulder, but received no response. It was a cover. As Jacob strode into the other room where an agent was already digging through the walk-in closet, he looked around for any sign of the criminal and found none. He felt relief begin to wash over him, hoping that Negaduck had managed to slip out the back or through a window on the second floor.

As he bent over the minibar and poured himself a glass of bourbon, he heard footsteps come up behind him. He knew who they belonged to.

"Jacob, please listen to me. We must find him before he harms another innocent person," J. Gander stressed, growing more desperate by the minute.

The suave mallard turned around with a half full glass in one hand. "I told you, John. He didn't kill our agent." Then he shrugged. "And as I said, I don't know where he is. He called, but I didn't think to trace the call."

"Sir?"

J. Gander looked up at one of his agents.

"We've completed a sweep the whole house. He's not here."

He paused, and gave a deep, reluctant sigh. "Alright. Disperse agents all over the city, and pay special attention to the bad parts of town and the ways out of town. If he flees or tries to lay low in one of his sanctuaries, we need to be ready for him."

The agents began to withdraw from the house, and Jacob followed them to the front door. He tried not to come across as too eager to get them out. "Be sure to notify me if you find him. I will want a few words with him before you ship him out. And I'll inform you the minute I hear from him again."

"I don't doubt you will, Jacob. Because if you don't, someone else will," J. Gander said resolutely.

Jacob stopped and blinked questionably. "Come again?"

Stopping in the doorway, J. Gander turned to look up at him. "I'm leaving an agent here with you. It's nothing personal, Jacob. But we can't be too cautious. Negaduck may turn violent against you when he discovers what has really been going on."

His brows raised. Nothing personal? Jacob knew the real reason behind this move. J. Gander truly believed that he wouldn't inform SHUSH if Negaduck did show up. But he couldn't hold that against his friend. It was true, anyway.

"Fine. And who will be graced with my company this evening?" he asked. Jacob Mallard was confident that he could sway any agent to his bidding by using his prestige and reputation.

But there was one exception, and he stepped into the doorway.

"Looks like we'll be having a little sleepover tonight, Mallard," the slick form of his double hissed with sarcasm.

Jacob nearly dropped the glass in his hand. It took every ounce of will power not to start an argument and protest J. Gander's decision, knowing that it would only make the situation all the more suspicious. Instead, he played it cool. "Oh goody. I can hardly wait for the pillow fight."

Except those pillows would be filled with bricks.

"Now gentleman, despite whatever differences you may have, I stress the importance of the two of you cooperating in this dire situation," J. Gander reminded the look-alike mallards.

"Of course, John," Jacob replied innocently.

"You have nothing to worry about," Jake reassured.

J. Gander gave a small smile--the first of the evening. "Excellent. You're the finest agents that SHUSH possesses. Be sure to keep up that stigma. I'll expect an update to Headquarters every hour. Good evening, gentleman."

He walked out the door after his agents, and Jacob closed the door after him. He turned around to face his double, who was staring back at him with an accusing glower. "You shouldn't do that, you know. Your face will stick that way," he suggested, but then smirked. "Oh, wait. Too late."

"Hardy har har," Jake sneered, remaining unamused. "Alright, let's cut to the chase. Where is he?"

But Jacob remained coy as he sauntered past the ill-tempered mallard. "Why, I don't know what you're talking about. Didn't you hear me say to J. Gander that I don't know where he is?"

Jake followed him into the main foyer where the fire in the fireplace was still roaring strong. "Drop the act, Jacob. You might have been able to fool J. Gander, but I know how you think."

Jacob took a deep gulp of alcohol from his glass, and then turned to face him with a calm, level expression. "It must be hard, having such a strong desire to kill your own son. We may think on the same level, but that is one thing we do not have in common. That built-up, mindless rage against your own flesh and blood. The drive behind your present life. It must be hard having that and nothing else to live for. Tell me, Jake. How hard is it to be so hateful of everything and everyone?"

His counterpart glared back at him with cold, icy green eyes. He was growing impatient with the condescending attitude. "Don't forget. You're just as much a part of that hatred as he is."

"Oh, I didn't forget," Jacob answered, now passing a steely stare of his own. He took a few dangerous steps closer. "But unlike you, I'm not going to give up and abandon that boy. Despite the despicable mallard he was sired from, and despite what you've done to him, I believe there is potential in him. I know you're the one responsible for Agent Terry's assassination." He stopped just feet away from Jake and leaned forward, his voice lowering into a threatening growl. "And I'm going to stand by him so that we may watch you fall together..."

The fire was ignited in Jake's eyes, fueled by his hatred. With an enraged snarl, he swung a balled fist right for his double's head. But Jacob reacted quickly, and splashed the rest of his bourbon directly into his eyes.

"Ahhh!!" Jake howled in pain. He frantically rubbed at his eyes, trying to cease the burning sensation.

While he was temporarily blinded, Jacob gripped his cane tightly in both hands. He held onto the handle, and pulled at the hilt of the cane, revealing a long, smooth sword that glistened in the firelight. He lifted it and aimed its point directly toward Jake, who was just regaining his vision. He blinked in surprise upon being faced with the weapon, but he would prove to be resourceful. Jake's eyes shifted to the side, and in a quick move, he leapt over toward the fireplace and removed a long poker from the flames. The tip was red hot from the intense heat, and now he countered Jacob's threat with his own.

"You any good with that thing?" Jake challenged him lowly.

Jacob tilted his head in response with an excited sparkle in his eyes. "We'll soon find out, old friend."

And with those words, the two engaged in a makeshift sword fight in the middle of the elegant living room. Each time the sword hit the shaft of the poker, fiery sparks were sent into the air. The metallic clangs echoed off of the long walls and high ceiling. Jacob was not only fighting a battle with his nemesis, but with himself as he struggled to keep his limp minimal under the stress of the battle. This gave Jake an advantage from the start, but Jacob was proving to be masterful with a sword while Jake's primary mastery was in firearms.

Jake began to strongly advance, forcing Jacob to back up and bump into the lacquer coffee table. He stumbled for an instant, and turned around to retreat a few steps so that he could regain his composure. But Jake was quick on his heels, leaping over the couch after him. Just as Jake was preparing to thrust the pointed end of his weapon through his enemy's back, Jacob spun around and blocked the fatal attack with a paire, locking their weapons together.

"By the way," Jake seethed as he leaned closer. "I'll be sure to explain to that purple-masked son of yours what really happened here. How you were harboring a fugitive who decided to turn on his meal ticket. Perhaps I'll even make it sound as if you died honorably, fighting until your last breath." Then he passed him a cruel smile. "He'll be so disappointed to discover that his father consorted with criminals to the end..."

Jacob felt his rage give him that extra boost of adrenaline he needed. With an angry grunt, he pushed Jake backward and sliced the air with his sword. But before he could make contact with Jake's neck, the corrupt agent blocked the attack with a strong paire of his own. It was so powerful, that it knocked the sword right out of Jacob's hands. It slid across the slick wooden floor and came to a stop several feet away. And Jake continued with a follow-through punch that sent Jacob to the floor. He grunted in pain, and he was now beginning to feel the throbbing in his lame leg. He had pushed it too hard. when Jacob turned around, Jake was standing over him. Instead of having the poker in his hand, he now held Jacob's sword, and he positioned the tip right against his neck.

"A little over-confident, weren't you?" Jake sneered triumphantly down at him.

But Jacob remained defiant. Despite the grim situation, despite the fact that Jake had the upperhand and would slit his throat within the minute, he would never beg for mercy from him.

"You can kill me, Jake. I dare you," he challenged him in a strong, unwavering voice that was void of even the slightest ounce of fear. "Your fate is coming for you sooner than you think." Then he smiled devilishly. "I'll save a seat in Hell for you."

"You do that," Jake answered evenly while holding the sword tightly in his hands. "And I'll be sure to send Negaduck to keep you company in the meantime."

Jacob felt his defenses rise, and he spoke up to his enemy in a confident voice. "That boy is a better mallard than you'll ever be, Jake. Even in light of everything you've done to him. You just can't accept it. And you never will."

Jake's green eyes narrowed defensively against the truth. He saw only one way to remedy that. Jake's fingers curled tightly around the handle of the sword. "It's been a good battle, my friend. But it looks as if you've lost the war."

He pulled the sword back, prepared to run his long-time enemy through. Jacob did not try to flee, and would take his fate with dignity. Then he saw the shining blade thrust toward him and closed his eyes, waiting for the last pain he would ever feel.

CLANG!!!

The firepoker swung through the air, and the sound of the iron hitting flesh and bone sending a sickening clanging sound ripping through the air. Jake hadn't even seen it coming from behind, and was taken completely off guard when he was struck across the shoulders. He grunted loudly in pain before he collapsed to the rug-covered wooden floor in front of his double. Jacob opened his eyes, and there Negaduck stood, the iron rod clenched tightly in his hands and an angry, resentful scowl on his face.

"This war is far from over," the villain growled down at his fallen father, who would take quite a few minutes to regain himself.

Jacob looked up at the younger mallard, relieved and grateful. Negaduck tossed the poker aside and stepped forward, outstretching an arm to help pull him to his feet. Jacob took his hand and painstakingly pulled himself to his feet, although he tried his best to hide his difficulty.

"It's quite possible you saved my life, Drake."

"Good. Then we're even." Negaduck looked down at Jake, who was still groaning in pain and struggling not to lose consciousness. "Let's get out of here before the rest of those suited yuppies come back."

Even though his body disagreed with the idea, he nodded, knowing that Jake would call for reinforcements to take the both of them in. He waved his hand for him to follow. "This way."

The two of them made a quick retreat through the back door of the mansion. Meanwhile, Jake's head finally began to stop spinning. He placed his palms flat on the floor, and slowly lifted himself up. He had to blink his eyes into focus, and they darted around wildly in search of his enemy and his son. There was no sign of either, but then there was the sound of a car squealing out of the long driveway in a hurry.

Jake staggered to his feet, and painfully shifted his shoulders. Then he pulled out his cellular and dialed.

"This is Agent Jake Mallard. Get me J. Gander..."


	13. Truth

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** I don't really have much of a note on this chapter. I am in VA for the summer now, but I will still have time to work on this story during my time here. I expect to have this story done before I return home in August. There is only one, maybe two more chapters to go, so stay turned!

**DISCLAIMER: **Negaduck and Darkwing Duck are ©Disney. Jake Mallard is ©me, and Jacob Mallard is ©Amanda Rohrssen. I pity the fool who try and steal them! I pity the fool!

**CHAPTER 12**

"Where are we going??" Negaduck demanded from the passenger's seat of Jacob's Jaguar. The sports car weaved treacherously through the winding, unlit roads of Saint Canard's outskirts in the night.

"I'm taking you back to your hideout," Jacob declared even as he seemed to effortlessly maneuver the car. He couldn't seem to bring himself to look at the younger mallard sitting beside him. "You're going to get in that hideous jet plane of yours and get out of here before they catch up to us."

"And go where??"

"Anywhere! Anywhere but here, Drake. Even you can see that it's not safe here for you now," Jacob pointed out the obvious. "Thanks to Jake, SHUSH no has a price out for your head, and everyone will be after you. You may beg to differ, boy, but you will not last a day in Saint Canard."

Negaduck scoffed and rolled his eyes. Who would dare suggest that he, the public enemy, could not handle anything? But then again, this was certainly a new situation, challenging him in several ways. He turned to look at Jacob. "But what about my drugs? Won't I need them when I--??"

"No," Jacob sharply cut him off. "You won't need them. Those pills don't work."

The masked mallard blinked questionably, wondering if he had just heard what he though he'd heard. "What are you talking about? They work! I need you to--!"

"Passidone doesn't work!" Jacob said in a more assertive voice. He turned his head from the road to give him a convincing stare. "You were taking sugar pills the whole time, Drake. You were in the control group. It doesn't work."

Seeing the disbelief in the younger mallard's eyes, Jacob returned his gaze to the road. But Negaduck was still staring, flabberghasted. But then his shock turned to anger. His eyes narrowed spitefully.

"You knew this whole time??"

"No, I didn't!" Jacob immediately shot back defensively. He had expected such an accusation. But he quickly calmed himself, and took a deep breath. "I didn't know. I just found out. If I had known, it would have compromised the way I had treated you." He then passed the villain an apologetic frown. "I'm sorry, Drake."

He turned his head away and glowered through the windshield in front of him. Negaduck was enraged, in denial, and confused. "So that means that I…?"

He didn't want to finish and looked to Jacob to finish the question for him. Jacob opened his bill to answer, but he stopped. Both ducks could hear the familiar sound of a motorcycle coming up from behind. Negaduck turned in his seat and looked out the back window of the car, and saw the lights of the Ratcatcher closing in.

"Your feeble attempt at fleeing is futile, you felon!" shouted Darkwing over the roaring engines of both vehicles.

"Oh great!" Negaduck snarled in defeat. With determined glower, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a pistol. "I'll handle this…" he growled as he rolled down the window.

But Jacob wisely intervened. "No. Don't, Drake," he insisted firmly. Negaduck passed him a look of disbelief, but his elder remained calm and confident. "Let's not make this any worse than it is." He paused and passed him a solemn stare. "Prove Jake wrong."

Negaduck didn't say anything. He didn't argue or protest, and sat back down in his seat. Then the wise old SHUSH agent redirected his eyes back to the road. "Besides, we'll be able to lose him with a bit of defensive driving."

Jacob shifted the powerful sports car, and it began to accelerate. But Darkwing quickly retaliated by easing on the gas of his motorcycle.

"It's no use! You can't outrun us!"

Both Jacob and Mallard blinked at one another questionably. 'Us?'

Then the sound of another vehicle approaching began to grow louder. Jacob looked up in the review mirror and saw another set of headlights coming up dangerously fast. They belong to a black BMW sedan. And behind the steering wheel, a pair of narrowed green eyes locked onto the target.

Negaduck scowled at Jacob. "Well? Now what?"

"Now? Now you hold on for your life, boy."

The gears shifted again, and Negaduck was thrown back into the leather seat. Both cars and the motorcycle weaved through the treacherous unlit dark road, turning blind corners and nearly diving into ditches. But no matter how many skillful maneuvers Jacob pulled, both Darkwing and Jake stayed close on his heels. There was the ascending vroom of the BMW's engine, and then a loud bang. Both Jacob and Negaduck were violently jerked forward as Jake forcefully 'nudged' the fender of his car into Jacob's car. Jacob grit his teeth and clenched his fingers tightly around the steering wheel. And then they were slammed again from behind as Jake continued to try and run them off of the road.

"This isn't working!" Negaduck pointed out with his voice full of frustration. Then there was the distinct clang noise. "What was that?"

They both shifted their eyes to their review mirrors. There, flapping ten feet behind Jacob's Jaguar, was Darkwing Duck, holding onto his gasgun while the grappling hook on the opposite end held fast to the car's bumper.

"Whether you come quietly or loudly, Negaduck, I'm taking you in!" Darkwing shouted against the whipping wind.

Negaduck bared his teeth and growled loudly. He rolled down the window and stuck his head out to glare back at his double. "Hasn't anyone ever told you that hitch-hiking is dangerous, Duck??"

"You're the dangerous one, Negaduck!" Darkwing shot back as he began to reel himself in toward the car. He was struggling to keep himself steady through every turn. He knew that if he lost his hold, he would be thrown violently onto the pavement, and under Jake's car which was not far behind. "I'm bringing you back to prison where you belong, and then, this time, to the gas chamber! And nothing is going to stop me!"

Negaduck tilted his head. "Did you say nothing?" he challenged with an amused twinkle in his blue eyes. "How about Mother Nature??"

Darkwing continued to pull himself forward, and narrowed his eyes at his eternal enemy. "What are you talking about, you larcenous lunatic??"

Just then, Jacob pulled the steering wheel hard, bringing them quickly around a sharp corner. The rope to which Darkwing was holding onto to swung the hero around like a tetherball, and a split second was all he needed to see the large tree coming at him.

"Yipes!!"

WHAM!!!

The thick elm splinter under the impact, and the masked mallard found himself embedded into the tree's trunk. "Ouch…" he groaned painfully.

Negaduck laughed wickedly as he pulled himself back inside the car. "That takes care of that pest!"

But the pair of headlights behind them had not lost any distance, and stayed in pursuit. "We're not out of the woods, yet," Jacob pointed out grimly.

The chase continued on, rounding tight corners on the narrow, unlit roads of Saint Canard's outskirts. But no matter how many clever maneuvers Jacob pulled, they were not enough to lose Jake, whose own driving skills matched those of his double.

"Dammit!" Jacob cursed loudly upon his conclusion that he was unsuccessful in evading his enemy. "I can't lose him!"

Then, the stakes were raised even higher as Jake made bolder moves. The black Beamer accelerated like a rocket and pulled up along the driver's side of Jacob's vehicle. Now the two cars were speeding down the dark road at high speeds, with Jake in the oncoming lane. He looked through the passenger window at Jacob, an insane and determined look in his eyes.

Before Jacob had the chance to think of a defensive trick, Jake once more pulled on his steering wheel and slammed the side of the BMW into the Jaguar. The latter nearly went off the road and into the ditch, which would have been fatal at speeds of over 80 miles an hour. But Jacob used his skills to quickly correct his car. The tires squealed against the pavement in protest, but he managed to regain control and stay on the road.

Then Jake struck again, this time more aggressively. Negaduck grunted and cursed loudly as his head hit the window. His spite and desperation momentarily taking control of him, Jacob scowled back across the lanes at Jake, and retaliated by side-ramming him in return. But he had no such luck of losing Jake when he was just as quick to keep on the road.

"This isn't going to work!" Negaduck shouted over the revving engine. "Let me take him out!"

"No! That's not going to help you in the end!" Jacob snapped in return. He turned his head to see Jake still speeding steadily in the lane beside him. The two look-alikes locked vengeful eyes. Staring into his enemy's cold, heartless stare made the hatred pump through Jacob's veins.

"You got a better idea??" the villain asked snidely from the passenger's seat. Then he saw something glint in the light of the headlights past Jacob. From across the lanes of the road, Negaduck saw Jake pull out a large Magnum and raise it in their direction. "Look out!"

Jacob's eyes darted to see the gun pointed directly at him, and he could even see Jake tighten his finger around the trigger.

BLAM!!!

Immediately following the gunshot was the sound of an explosion. The Jaguar jerked violently across the pavement, and Jacob desperately tried to regain control. But the front tire had been blown out and was already riding on the rim. The next thing the two of them saw was the guardrail coming right at them.

"Hang on!" Jacob shouted and braced himself for the impact.

The sports car plowed through the feeble rail and flew off of the road. Unfortunately, there was no obstacle to stop them, and the car sailed through the air and crashed into the neighboring lake with a tremendous splash.

Cold water quickly began to flood the interior of the car, and within seconds, it was full to the roof. The vehicle began to sink deeper and deeper into the dark abyss of the lake. Negaduck struggled to see through the darkness while he held his breath, but he managed to find the handle for his door. With a quick jerk, he pulled back the handle and pushed the door outward against the water so that he could swim out.

But Jacob was not so lucky. His door was jammed shut from the side-swipes endured during the chase. He let out a muffled grunt as he thrust himself as hard as he could against the door, hoping to break it free, but to no avail. The air was growing stale in his lungs and his chest was beginning to hurt. The icy cold water was unbearable and beginning to make his fingers go numb.

The dark around him was quickly beginning to consume him. Jacob fought to keep his eyes from rolling up into his head, but he was losing the fight. But then he felt a hand tightly grab onto his shoulder from the right, and he was quickly pulled across the seats and out through the passenger side door. An arm wrapped tightly around his torso and began to slowly pull him up toward the surface.

Seconds later, two heads burst through the surface. Negaduck inhaled sharply and Jacob coughed water out of his lungs. He took deep heaving breaths, ridding himself of the dizziness that nearly turned to unconsciousness. With his strength slowly seeping back into him, Jacob paddled his way back toward the nearby shore. Once a superb swimmer, his cripple leg made the task all the more difficult. But he managed to make it to the shoreline at the base of the hill that led up to the road. Negaduck staggered out of the water behind him, and even assisted in helping him keep his balance.

Still coughing and trying to regain his breath, Jacob stopped and turned to face the masked mallard. He stared at him through the drenched feathers that dangled in front of his eyes. "You need to get out of here." He reached out and placed a hand on the masked mallard's shoulder. "I don't care how, but you need to get out of Saint Canard. Go far. Go back to the Negaverse. I'll do what I can here to keep the authorities off of your tail, but if you stay, there is no stopping them."

Negaduck nodded quickly as he removed the sopping wet fedora from his head and wringed out the water. "It was all you, old timer," he concluded as he put the hat back on his head. "It wasn't the experiment or the drugs that changed me. It was you…" he finished with a hint of surprise in his voice.

But Jacob shook his head. "No. It was you, Drake. You changed yourself."

Younger locked eyes with elder. Jacob's eyes showed that he was reluctant to let the villain go. The two had developed a strong bond over the couple of months that the experiment lasted. A bond that the two of them had missed for years.

Still, Jacob knew there was not much time, and nodded urgently. "Now go. Go!"

Negaduck took a couple of steps backward, knowing that it was possible that the two may never cross paths again. Then he turned and began to make his quick retreat.

BLAMBLAM!!!

"NO!!!"

Jacob leapt forward and caught the villain as he was thrown backward to the ground. He sank to his knees with the masked mallard in his arms, and he could feel the sticky warm liquid already covering his hands. His wide, black eyes looked down to see blood pouring out from two bullet wounds in Negaduck's chest.

"No. Hang in there, kid," Jacob urged him as calmly as he could, but he couldn't hide the frantic tone in his voice. "I'm going to get you help, alright?"

But Negaduck only stared up at him with dark blue eyes. Despite feeling the strength slowly seep out of him there was a strange sort of calm in his eyes. Images began to pass in front of him. Memories. He saw a familiar young mallard try to stop his father from beating his mother to death. Then the child was tied to a chair and repeatedly beaten. From there the scene changed to an old orphanage, where the same boy was being picked on by the other children, and then locked into a janitor's closet. The memories skipped ahead several years. Now he was grown and donned a mask and cape; and he burst into a bank and robbed it at gunpoint, even firing a few warning shots just to frighten the women and children.

Negaduck weakly tilted his head as the last image flashed in his mind. A young girl with red hair, and wearing a pink dress…

"Drake? Drake!"

Jacob vainly tried to stop the bleeding and pressed a hand down hard over the wound. But even his hope was quickly fading. The old mallard, who had experienced so much hardship and loss in his life, was beginning to feel that familiar sense of hopelessness. He looked down at the villain, almost pleadingly. "Come on, son. Hang on…" he whispered quietly as he cradled him in his arms. "I'm going to take care of you…"

Negaduck struggled to swallow, and his throat was constricted to the point that taking in the slightest breath was impossible. But a small, devious smile appeared on his bill.

"Thanks…for the…second chance, old man…"

The words took the last of his strength to say. He couldn't even force himself to pull another breath into his lungs, and his eyelids grew heavy. Slowly, his eyes closed behind his mask. His head lolled to the side and came to a rest against Jacob's chest.

Jacob stared in disbelief. No longer could he feel Negaduck's chest rise and fall beneath his hand. He didn't call out his name again, knowing the only response he'd get would be silence. Instead, the senior agent wrapped his arms protectively around the villain and held him protectively against him, rocking him back and forth in his embrace.

Up at the top of the hill on the roadside, Jake stared down at the shoreline, the gun still clenched tightly in his hand. His eyes were transfixed on his enemy, who was holding the fallen public enemy in his arms. Jake clenched his jaw tightly, feeling his resentment boil up inside of him once more. He wrapped his finger around the trigger of his gun, and was about to raise his weapon to rid himself of his double. But then there was the sound of sirens approaching not far away, and he heard the engine of the Ratcatcher as it pulled up behind him.

Seconds later, Darkwing Duck sprinted up to his side. "Alright! Let me at that no-good Negaduck! When I get my hands on him, I'm gonna--!"

Receiving no recognition from Jake of his presence, Darkwing looked up at him and blinked. Then he followed his gaze and saw Jacob and Negaduck down below at the shore. "Hey, what happened?" Then, taking a more observant look, the hero put the pieces together and looked up at Jake questionably. "Did you…You shot him??"

"If it hadn't been me, it would have been somebody else," Jake grunted without any reservation. Then he holstered his weapon just as the flashing red and blue lights came into view. "Thanks for your help, Darkwing. I can take it from here."

Jake walked away, leaving Darkwing where he stood. The hero watched him saunter over to the arriving police cars, and he suddenly had an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. Perhaps it was the fact that his idol had seemed to so mercilessly shoot down his own son, even though Negaduck had tried to kill the both of them on several occasions. Or perhaps it was the fact that he was seeing his own father protectively cradling his eternal enemy…as if he were his son. Or maybe it was because he wasn't the one to finally bring Negaduck down. It filled Darkwing with mixed complicated feelings. Even from where he stood, he could see the heartbroken expression on Jacob's face.

Jacob gently caressed the black mask of the public enemy with his fingertips. He fought back the tears that threatened to spring to his eyes. The overwhelming feeling of loss consumed him. Once again, Jake had managed to take away what was precious to him. A tear escaped his eyes, and slid down over his bill and dropped onto Negaduck's cold cheek.

"I'm sorry, Drake. I've failed you," Jacob whispered in regret. Then he removed the red fedora from Negaduck's head, and then slipped his fingers into the knot of his mask. Gently, he pulled the strip of black material from around his face to reveal the face of the notorious criminal.

Jacob could feel his blood run cold as he gently brushed his fingers over the feathers of the villain's face. He choked back on a sob and pulled him closer.

"Sleep now…"


	14. Believe

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: Thought I had forgotten about this little piece, didn't you? Well, actually, I did. But I recently remembered, and thought I should finally finish writing the last chapter. I apologize for the long absence. In the past year I had moved, graduated from college with my BA in Justice, went on a few vacations, and have been very busy applying/testing for jobs. I finally had enough of a break to finish this story. It's been a while since I've done any good fiction writing, so my skills are probably rusty–sorry!

Thanks for all who have been reading and reviewing! Enjoy the final chapter!

**CHAPTER 14**

The SHUSH experimentation lab was running just like any other day. Not one of the white coat-clad scientists gave the dramatic situation that had happened a few nights earlier another thought. They merely continued on with their research, as instructed by Director Hooter.

Up in his panoramic-view office overlooking the lab, Jacob Mallard was busily packing the last few of his belongings into a box. The office was the cleanest it has been since he had first moved in, and it had been a while since he had been able to see glass surface of his desk. He seemed to be on auto-pilot, determined to make his exit from the building as soon as possible. He wouldn't have even noticed J. Gander standing in the doorway if the old bird hadn't cleared his throat.

Jacob merely glanced up before looking down again to throw some knick-knacks into the box. "John."

"Jacob," J. Gander acknowledged in return, although a bit less edgier than his old compadre. He watched Jacob silently for a moment, then took a few steps into the office. "I really wish you would reconsider your decision, Jacob."

But the old agent only shook his head insistently. "No can do, John. I cannot stay with an agency that condones the employment of agents who play God and have no respect for research and life."

The cynicism was thick in his voice, but being used to the behavior of his friend, J. Gander let it roll off his back. "He was a criminal, Jacob. A felon. A murderer. I highly doubt that society would be as willing to hand him mercy as you have done."

"He was still a person," Jacob countered firmly, looking up to stare the Director straight in the eyes. "Before he was killed, he was more of a person than most of the agents you have working in this place, whether you were able to see it or not. I was able to see it in him, John, because I was the only one who gave him a chance despite the failure of Passidone."

The two held each other's gaze for a moment, Jacob's filled with spite and regret while J. Gander's were filled with conflict. Then Jacob returned to packing his belongings, now roughly dropping things in the box to deliberately make loud, agitated thuds.

Then J. Gander perked up a little, his voice more encouraging. "Why not stay a little longer and continue your research, Jacob?" he suggested hopefully. "This experiment yielded enough results for you to continue research and perfect your Passidone formula–"

"There's no need to continue on," Jacob interrupted as he piled on a few files on the top of the box. "As you just said, the experiment supplied me with results that I never had expected, but were more viable than any I had planned on."

J. Gander raised his brows questionably, waiting for him to continue.

Jacob leaned forward over the desk. "There is no need for Passidone. People don't need to take a drug to change their negative behavior. They can do it on their own with the right environment and the right people for support. Negaduck was proof of that."

There was another moment of silence before the SHUSH Director made one last attempt to get one of his long-time prized agents to stay. "I wish there was some way to change your mind."

"Listen to me carefully, John. As long as Jake Mallard is within SHUSH ranks, I will not be," Jacob promised sternly. "He is bad for your agency. He is reckless and power-hungry. And here is a new piece of information for you: the other night, he killed his own son." He paused to examine the very subtle look of surprise the old gander struggled to suppress. "I just hope that someday you will see Jake Mallard for who he really is. And when that day comes, give me a call."

Jacob picked up the box of his belongings and crossed the office toward the door. But before he could pass J. Gander, the Director reached up and snatched one of the files from the top of the pile in Jacob's arms.

"What is this?" J. Gander asked and then read over the front cover of the file to answer his own question. "This is the entire research design and report for the Passidone experiment? This is SHUSH property, Jacob. You can't take this with you."

"Ah, but I beg to differ, John," Jacob retorted as he freed one hand to pluck the file from his hands. "If you look over the contract I signed at the beginning of this project, you will notice that I did not sign the Release of Information waiver. It is still mine, and I am going to make sure that it all stays right where it belongs."

Jacob then flashed the flabberghasted J. Gander his trademark cunning smile and gave a short nod. "See ya around, John."

He stepped out of the office without a second glance and made his way through SHUSH without acknowledging any of the stares or occasional questions past co-workers gave him. Jacob Mallard was intent on leaving it all behind him. He only had to make one final stop on the way out, and that was at the front employee services counter to turn in his badge. Setting the box in his arms down so that he could fill out the paperwork that was required for just about everything, he did not notice another agent come up to his side, who was nonchalantly leaning against the wall and watching him with a smirk.

"Checking out?" the snide voice asked. "What's the matter, Mallard? Don't want to play the game anymore?"

Jacob only shook his head, forcing himself not to look up into the eyes of his malevolent double. He had to clench his jaw to keep himself not to say something in the middle of the SHUSH lobby that he would regret later. "It's all just a game to you. Is that how it is?"

There was a smirk from Jake. "Admit it, Jacob. When it comes to you and I, it all narrows down to whoever is the most clever, and who is the least susceptible to hindering emotions. That has always been your weakness."

"Only you would regard emotions as a weakness, you snake," Jacob muttered lowly as he slid the filled out paperwork to the clerk behind the window. He turned to face his nemesis. "And only you would resort to taking the life of your own flesh and blood to better your status."

Jake narrowed his ice-cold green eyes, his expression darkening. "Try all you want to glorify a public enemy, friend. It is a futile effort, because all that anyone else will see is his true character as a psychopathic, murdering criminal. You'd be wasting your time and soiling your reputation in the process. That is something that I have learned and you still have failed to realize."

"Then that just goes to show how naive society really is," Jacob countered with bitter resentment. He turned his body to face Jake straight on with a solid stare. "They are too busy looking at the headlines and blatant criminal acts that they fail to see who the real criminals are. The ones who are most dangerous are right under their noses, but they are blind to it because of how well the scum is hidden." He stared hard at Jake to prove his point. "Villainy wears many masks, but none is more dangerous than the mask of virtue."

Jacob could see the corner of Jake's bill tremble, wanting so badly to curly into a sneer. The two glowered at one another for a moment.

"Your badge?"

Jacob turned his attention back to the clerk. He paused for a moment, then reached to his belt to pluck off the badge engraved with the SHUSH insignia. He placed it on the counter and handed it over to the clerk, who nodded conclusively.

Jake watched with a raised brow. "You're not going to miss all of the power and privilege of the badge, old friend?" he taunted.

"Quite the contrary," Jacob replied with a bit of a satisfied tone in his voice. He faced Jake with a subtle, menacing smile on his bill. "I am now free of the leash. If I were employed as a SHUSH agent and committed a capital crime, I'd be locked away in 24 hour solitary confinement in a federal prison. Now that I am just an ordinary citizen, the worst I would receive would be life in a state prison or the death penalty, neither of which frightens me."

Jake Mallard eyed him suspiciously. Then Jacob stepped forward until he was close enough to whisper lowly to his enemy. "One day, very soon, my friend, I am going to kill you."

Jacob stepped back, still holding his devious smile. Then he bent down to pick up his box in one hand, his cane in the other, and proceeded to limp his way across the SHUSH lobby to the doors. Jake watched him until he disappeared outside, his eyes narrowed and his fists clenched. He could feel the heat rising from beneath his feather, but he was unsure if it was a result of anger or...paranoia.

Minutes later, Jacob was shoving the final box into the back seat of his new Audi. Once everything was situated, he closed the back door and turned around to climb into the driver's seat. But a gaudy purple motorcycle and its purple-clad rider caught his attention as it screeched to a halt in the parking lot. Jacob leaned over the open door of his car as Darkwing hopped off of the Ratcatcher and approached him.

"Nice new wheels, old man," Darkwing commented snidely. "Fully loaded? Heated seats?"

"Looking for Jake?" Jacob asked, skipping the hero's remarks and cutting to the chase. "He's in the lobby. Should be easy to spot. Just look for the rising steam coming from his head."

"Hardy har-har," Darkwing sneered back. "But I'm not here to see him. I'm here to see you."

"Is that so?" Jacob asked. Even though it perked his interest, he feigned disinterest. "Well, best make it quick, boy. I've got places to go."

Darkwing opened his bill to reply but froze. His eyes panned to the back seta of the car, which was loaded with boxes which were filled with office supplied and belongings. He looked back up at Jacob with raised brows. "Taking a vacation."

"You can say that. An indefinite vacation."

"You're leaving SHUSH?" Darkwing asked, somewhat astonished. Then he scoffed. "Figures. NOW you leave SHUSH when you have no reason or other commitments. Not like 20 years ago when certain important people in your life needed you more than SHUSH," the masked vigilante continued to rant with dramatic arm movements.

Jacob instantly caught on to Darkwing's bitterness, and it didn't surprise him. In his younger SHUSH days, he worked long days and spent barely any time with his family, especially when they needed him most. Darkwing's resentment was understandable.

"I have my reasons," Jacob insisted defensively.

"Oh? And what might those be, hmm??" Darkwing demanded impatiently.

Jacob sighed. He knew that he would not be able to explain everything to Darkwing. He was hot-headed, something that he had no doubt inherited from his father. There was no way he would believe him, no matter how sincere his words.

"You wouldn't understand, boy."

But Darkwing raised an eyebrow, using his skills of deduction to come to a conclusion. "This is about Jake, and everything that happened the other night!"

Jacob passed his son an over-exaggerated expression of praise. "Well done! Your deduction skills never cease to amaze."

"Don't patronize me!" Darkwing spat angrily. Then he folded his arms across his chest and stared at Jacob. "Why did you do it?"

The elder mallard blinked, feigning ignorance. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

"'No idea' my tail feathers!" the hero snapped. He waited until he had Jacob's eyes on his. "Why did you do it? Why did you risk your neck for that preposterous public enemy? Surely you didn't think that Negaduck had the ability to change because of some miracle drug."

Jacob sighed and lowered his gaze to the cement ground at his feet. He tapped his fingers on the top of the car door. "Whether you would like to believe it or not, Drake, he wasn't born a malicious madman. He was just like any other person until a disastrous event twisted his mind into the villain that the city knows him to be. With my research and work, I believed that even the worst of society has the ability to change. And he did change. Only nobody wanted to see it or believe it."

Darkwing stared for a few seconds then let out a loud laugh. "Ha! You expect me to believe that??"

Jacob shook his head and sighed again. "No, Obviously not."

The ex-SHUSH agent climbed into the driver seat of the car and closed the door. He put the keys in the ignition but before he could start the engine, Darkwing had his head sticking through the open window.

"Wait," he insisted, the cynicism and sarcasm gone from his voice. His blue eyes were no longer hard and resentful, but curious. And hurt. "I need to know. He wasn't even your son, and still you...And, well, I'm your..."

The boisterous hero couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence, not knowing how to form the sentences properly without sounding like a wounded child.

But Jacob was able to pick up on what Darkwing was struggling to ask him. He leaned toward the window. "You are my son, Drake. And while I wasn't able to be with you for reasons that you will never fully understand, you always have been and always will be my son. I would do anything for you, even if you have it hard to believe." He paused to look him in the eyes. "Drake Mallard is my son. And for a brief time, Negaduck was Drake Mallard. He was who you are when not wearing the mask and cape. But he was helpless, clueless. And vulnerable. Not like you. He needed someone to protect him from those who insisted on still seeing him as a monster, and I was the only one willing."

Jacob turned the key and the car engine hummed to life. He revved the engine once, and he could barely make out Darkwing's words over the words.

"But he was Negaduck!" he pointed out again, the idea still unfathomable. "Why help the public enemy??"

Surprisingly, Jake allowed himself to chuckle and shake his head. "Come now, Darkwing. Even you should know the answer." He looked up at him with a knowing smile. "Someone had to when no one else would. Isn't that what a hero does? Help those who need it?"

"But I–! I mean, he–!" Darkwing tried to retort, but he could not find a strong enough rebuttal. "Well, yeah. Yeah, that's what a hero does. I mean, I would know, heehee."

Jacob nodded once, knowing that he made his point. There was a short awkward silence.

"Well, at least the citizens of Saint Canard will sleep more soundly knowing that the nefarious Negaduck is off the streets for good," Darkwing said with a familiar sense of pride he tended to get whenever he locked up a dangerous criminal.

"That may be," Jacob chimed in but with a grim timbre in his voice. "But don't think that someone just as dangerous won't take his place, Darkwing."

"Ha! No dastardly delinquent will escape the daring do of Darkwing Duck!" the caped crusader declared with a dramatic sweep of his cape. "There is nowhere for them to hide!"

"Don't be so sure."

Darkwing's ego instantly deflated and he passed his father a pout. "Hey! What's that supposed to mean??"

"Just do yourself and the city a favor, Darkwing, and remember this." Jacob looked him directly in the eyes with a warnful gaze. "Sometimes the most dangerous criminals are hiding where you least expect them, and they are wearing the perfect mask to deceive everyone around them."

Darkwing opened his bill to respond, but no words came out. He could only stand there with his mouth agape and silent as Jacob put the car into gear and pulled out of the SHUSH parking lot for one last time.

From the entrance to the building nearby, Jake watched with narrowed eyes until the car was out of sight. He looked to where Darkwing stood scratching his head. Seconds later, the agent was at his side and placed a hand on his shoulder, startling the young crime fighter.

"Easy, Darkwing. We may be armed but you don't have to worry about SHUSH agents getting the drop on you," Jake said with a light chuckle.

"Err, right! I knew that!" Darkwing quickly tried to recover. He looked back in the direction in which Jacob had disappeared, his father's words still lingering in his mind with ah int of suspicion attached.

Noticing Darkwing's distraction, Jake quickly broke his concentration. "It's lunch break. I'm on my way to the Rainforest Deli. How about you join me? My treat."

"Uh, well I..." Darkwing began. He didn't want to disappoint Agent Mallard, who he still looked up to. "Sure, why not? Can't fight crime on an empty stomach, right?"

"Indeed..." Jake agreed, his devilish smile appearing on his bill the second Darkwing's back was turned.

The cold water of the Audubon Bay lapped against the massive pillars that suspended the busy highway bridge above. The sun, now a brilliant shade of orange was only half visible over the horizon as it began to retire for the evening. It sent bright shades of oranges and reds skimming over the calm water below. Across the bay, ships were docked in the port, their deckhands busily unloading cargo. Along with the wooshing sound of the occasional car speeding by, the calls of gulls echoed in the pre-dusk sky.

But Jacob Mallard barely noticed any of his surroundings. His car was parked in the breakdown lane just behind him, and he leaned against the safety rail of the Audubon Bay Bridge. For several long moments, he gazed out over the glistening water. In one hand were all of the documents pertaining to the experiment. His experiment which had taken years of calculation, research, and patience. In his hand was all of his hard work, which didn't exhibit the results he had hoped to achieve.

On second though, however, the experiment had been anything but a failure. He achieved his goal, just not in the way he had planned. His hard worked had paid off, and he did make a difference. Jacob Mallard had achieved the unthinkable: he proved that even someone as ruthless and maniacal as Negaduck had the ability to change.

His work was complete. Jacob looked down at the file in his hands, and with a flick of his wrist, tossed it over the side of the bridge. Papers scattered in the air and fluttered down to the water like leaves. They floated on the surface for a moment before slowly sinking beneath the dark water.

Jacob turned his attention to his other hand, which was balled into a fist. He opened his fist and stared down at the black piece of satin material.

Negaduck's mask was the source of his being. And while it had defined who he was for the nearly half of his life, he had managed to break free from the prison it had made for him, if even for a short while. Jacob smirked as he ran his thumb over the mask, wondering if he really did make as much of a difference as he believed. Negaduck was strong-willed and no one told him what to do without being riddled with bullets. It was very possible that he could do anything as long as he wanted it for himself, whether it be to steal the world's most precious gemstone or reform.

With a smile, Jacob closed his hand tightly around the mask and looked out at the disappearing sun.

"You proved that anything is possible, boy," he said aloud. "Here's one last thrill. You deserve it."

Jacob then gently tossed the mask into the air. But rather than falling straight down to the water, a breeze caught the garment and carried it through the sky. He watched the mask dance in the air toward the horizon. With a final nod, Jacob took his cane and slowly returned to his vehicle. He started the car, then drove the bridge out of Saint Canard.

"_Your childhood eyes were so intense_

_While bartering your innocence_

_For bits of string_

_The grown-up wings_

_You needed_

_But when you had to add them up_

_You found that they were not enough_

_To get you in_

_To Pay for sins_

_Repeated_

_And for all the years you borrowed_

_And for all the tears you cried_

_And for all the fears_

_You had to keep inside_

_I am the way_

_I am the light_

_I am the dark inside the night_

_I hear your hopes_

_I feel your dreams_

_And in the dark I hear your screams_

_Don't turn away_

_Just take my hand_

_And when you make your final stand_

_I'll be right here_

_I'll never leave_

_All I ask of you is believe_

_I never wanted to know_

_Never wanted to see_

_I wasted my time_

_Till time wasted me_

_I never wanted to go_

_Always wanted to stay_

'_Cause the persons I am_

_Are the parts that I play_

_So I plot and I plan_

_And I hope and I scheme_

_To the lure of a night_

_Filled with unfinished dreams_

_And I'm holding on tight_

_To a world gone astray_

_As they charge me for years_

_I can't pay_"

**Fin**

**Reformation is ©Rachel Faraday 2006-2008. The story is based on the original screenplay Control, which is © their writers whose names I do not know.**

**Believe lyrics are ©Savatage.**

**Jacob Mallard is ©Amanda Rohrssen and has been used with permission.**

**Jake Mallard is ©Rachel Faraday and has been used with my own permission.**

**Darkwing Duck, Negaduck, J. Gander Hooter, NegaGosalyn, and any other characters mentioned are ©Disney.**


End file.
